


The end of everything

by LessonsFromMoths



Series: Haikyuu vs Zombies [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content Warnings in the Chapters, Deaf Character, Dissociation, Hard of Hearing Akaashi Keiji, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Major Character Death, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, So many headcanons I'm sorry, because i can't bring myself to kill anybody important, good and evil don't exist don't @ me, this DOES NOT INCLUDE characters already dead (see first fic)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths
Summary: One year into the apocalypse, Akaashi is ready to live out the rest of this hellscape with Bokuto-san and the rest of his interesting friends. Unfortunately, Oikawa had other plans. Trapped between land disputes and a possible civil war, it seems that he might never see that happy ending with Bokuto. Meanwhile, Bokuto is tearing across Tokyo in search of Akaashi while their friends try to take control of Karasuno and free those under Oikawa's thumb.Will this be the end of everything that they've tried to build? (SEQUEL TO"The hands we're given")
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Ennoshita Chikara/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kinoshita Hisashi & Narita Kazuhito, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: Haikyuu vs Zombies [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928431
Comments: 63
Kudos: 53





	1. an empty land

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY! This is coming to you all a month earlier than I expected! Updates every Monday.
> 
> To start, fic song is [Somewhere Only We Know](https://youtu.be/jRgoklPjPuA) (I've linked the Glee version i apologize but Darren Criss's voice just works so well for me)
> 
> Also my friend drew some amazing, incredible, wonderful, adorable [art](https://lessons-from-moths.tumblr.com/post/636443332135059456/just-a-haikyuu-bean-akaashi-baseball-bat) that you should definitely look at and give some love to! Also check out her [main blog](https://just-a-demi-bean.tumblr.com) and [Haikyuu/art blog](https://just-a-haikyuu-bean.tumblr.com/)! Thank you Bean! 
> 
> This sequel would not exist had it not been for the support and enthusiasm of many of you, so thank you so much!! Real quick I'd like to start by dedicating this entire fic to [Bean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justagaybean) (see above) for being one of my earliest supporters, talking headcanons with me, and just overall for being a wonderful friend to have! Please check out her works, they're all such interesting, cute, and fun reads! 
> 
> Okay! This has a lot more POVs in it (6 to be exact), which I hope you all like! We’ll be splitting our time between 4 main groups, and this chapter we get to see POVs from Kuroo (Group 1), Akaashi (Group 2), and Kunimi (Group 4). I hope I do them all justice and I hope that you like the versatility that the alternating POVs provide! These characters are all very dear to me :) 
> 
> Also some characters refer to themselves by their surname and others by their first name. Just...it’s whatever. It’s cool. I stand by my decisions lol. Sorry for the long note (you all know I'm actually not), please enjoy! Un-beta'd.

* * *

[Akaashi](https://youtu.be/x47TgeRJtH0)

Keiji has never been one to get involved. He’s good at sitting in the background and biding his time. He isn’t the one to rile things up or kick up dust that’s been long settled. He’s not the one anyone would expect to start a revolution. 

But for a chance to see Bokuto again, he might. 

“Wake the fuck up,” Sarukui kicks Keiji lightly, coaxing him awake. Keiji cracks one eye open, trying to convey his pleasure at being awoken so kindly.

“Fuck you,” he grounds out, yawning largely and rubbing at his sleep-crusted eyes. Before, he would rather be caught dead than asleep, but between pretending that he’s a scientist, daydreaming ways to escape, and spending too much time staring up at the stars on the hospital roof, Keiji will cling to any amount of sleep he can get. 

“No, fuck you,” Sarukui turns his mild-mannered smile to Keiji, and it makes Keiji want to punch him in the face. “We can’t start the studying session without you. You’re the whole fucking point of them.”

Keiji groans and slowly stands from his bed on the ground. “You’ve been spending too much time with Komi,” he says cooly, grabbing a less smelly shirt from his box next to his bed and changing, not bothering with modesty. He wrinkles his nose. Laundry day is still a week away. 

“Ugh, I’ll wait outside.” Sarukui cracks first and leaves. Keiji smiles. Sarukui always breaks before he does. He finishes changing and moves to the small vanity that was provided with his room. It has a mirror and a small desk for him to keep his things at, and he brushes his teeth dry and combs his fingers through his lengthening hair, grimacing at the messiness of it. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he gets lost in the void of his own eyes.

If he looks hard enough, he can see Bokuto’s golden irises reflected back at him.

“Akaashi! This is your own damn meeting!” 

He jolts from his trance, quickly slapping his cheeks to give them color and hopefully distract from the dark circles underlining his eyes. “Coming!”

He emerges from his room, which was definitely once used for storage in the hospital but is now where he sleeps for four to six hours every night. Keiji turns right out of his room and turns again down another hallway on the left. They usually convene in Shirabu’s room, since he has the largest one of their group. He also hoards the most books. 

As he’s walking to Shirabu’s room, he runs through his current predicament in his head.

Con: He’s stuck in a compound he doesn’t want to be in because if he leaves, a war starts between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa.

Pro: He’s being treated well, since they think he’s an epidemiologist who can help them with their experimental vaccine.

Con: He’s not an epidemiologist who can help them with their experimental vaccine.

Pro: There are others here who don’t want a war to start.

Con: Said others (AKA the scientists) have figured out that Keiji has no knowledge about vaccines or epidemiology. That was an awkward conversation that he’d rather not relive.

Pro: They’ve taken it upon themselves to help him keep up the ruse.

Con: Keiji is so busy learning scientific terms that he hasn’t had time to plot a proper escape. 

Con: It’s been four months.

Con: He doesn’t know where Bokuto is, if Bokuto is even alive anymore.

Pro: The thought that Bokuto might be out there still is the only thing keeping him going.

“Akaashi! Dude, you’re taking forever!” Komi appears outside of Shirabu’s door and grabs him, pulling him into the room before shutting the door behind them. In the room, the scientists are scattered, dark circles under their eyes and books on their laps. They’ve been waking early to teach Akaashi for four months now, and he can’t be more grateful. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Let’s get started.” 

Shirabu is immediately on him, grilling him over vocabulary. 

“Acellular vaccine.”

“Vaccine that uses only parts of cells instead of complete cells.”

“Adjuvant.”

“Part of a vaccine that helps with immune response to the antibody. Um, not the antigen, though?”

“Wrong,” Shibayama sighs, his legs swinging back and forth since his feet don’t touch the floor when he sits in Shirabu’s chair. “It’s the part of the vaccine that’s not part of the antigen, but still enhances immune response to the antigen.” 

Fuck. Right. 

“Sorry, I’ll remember next time.” 

“Repeat it now,” Shirabu implores, usually apathetic eyes intense. 

Keiji blinks at him in surprise. “What’s with the urgency?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because if they find out you’re a liar, then our compound could be thrust into war!” Shirabu takes a few steps towards him. Keiji springs to his feet and backs up at the sudden hostility. Surukui places a hand on his shoulder, comforting rather than intimidating. 

“Shirabu. Cool it.” 

Goshiki sighs from the other side of the room. “Ushijima and his advisors are visiting us today to see if we need the engineers more than the farmers do.” 

Keiji looks at all of the scientists again. They look tired, but it’s more of an exhaustion that’s in their entire beings rather than just glossing over their eyes. They’re worried. 

“What does that mean?” He asks. 

“It means,” Shirabu grumbles, “that if we aren’t making enough progress, then the farmers will get the engineers for another month. And we need them to fix one of our refrigerators so we can keep more samples longer.”

“And if we can’t get them to give us the engineers,” Keiji says slowly, trying to understand, “then we won’t have them for a whole month?”

“That was the deal we came up with,” Shibayama shrugs. “Because both the farmers and us need the engineers, but there’s only two of them. And they work faster and better together than apart.”

“But why don’t you just alternate months?” 

Fukunaga, usually silent in his corner, pipes up. “Part of the deal is that they stay with the group that needs them more so that productivity stays at its highest.” 

“And if we can’t prove that we need them more, then we can’t get their help,” Shirabu punctuates his statement with a frustrated stomp. Keiji doesn’t think that he’s ever seen Shirabu this worked up before. “And I’m not losing again to those fucking plow jockeys. The work we’re doing is important!” 

Alarm bells are going off in Keiji’s head. He’s known that the scientists and farmers have been going at it for a while, but he’s never been privy to information like this before. He guesses that after 4 months, he’s either trusted enough to learn about it or they can no longer keep him away from it.

Pro: He can exploit this. He knows he can. The question is, _how?_

“So will you learn your goddamn vocabulary?” Shirabu sighs, and Keiji nods quickly. He can work out this new piece of the plan later. For now, he’ll stick with the original plan: prevent a war. 

“Good. Now. Adjuvant.”

* * *

[Kunimi](https://youtu.be/rxf06itUFuE)

Makki’s eyes are lit with a perverse kind of joy as he holds a knife to the throat of the crying man, the man’s pleas for mercy reverberating around the room, hitting Kunimi’s ears as a distorted echo. 

“Can I kill him yet?” 

Mattsun snorts from where he’s slumped against the wall, his head tilted towards the ceiling and his arms crossed. His words are spoken with no inflection. “Please. If only to shut him up.” 

“Wait for Boss,” Kindaichi says easily. “He won’t be too happy if we make that sort of call without him.”

“This guy almost killed Yahaba! We have every right to return the favor,” Makki points out. He presses his cheek against the captured man’s, a menacing grin on his face. “And unlike you, I won’t fail.” The man whimpers and then begins screaming for his life anew. 

Kunimi sighs.

As if sensing his distress, Boss walks in the room, quietly surveying the scene in front of him.

Makki and his prey are stationed in the middle of the room, the man still screaming his head off. Surrounding them in a semicircle is Mattsun leaning against the wall, Kindaichi sitting on the floor, and Kunimi standing stiff on Makki’s other side, looking bored. Boss is stone-faced as usual, his back straight and his eyes narrowed as he quickly analyzes their positions in the small room, some kind of kid’s bedroom or something. He looks sharply at Makki. 

“Shut him up before he calls every rotter in the area to come crawling to us.” 

Makki’s grin turns feral and the man crumples to the ground, blood pouring from his throat. “Ugh,” Mattsun steps away from the fallen victim as he gurgles for air. His face is screwed up in disgust. “Makki, did you really have to throw him in my path? I just cleaned my shoes.” He’s hiking his shoulders as if to get ready for a fight or verbal spat. Makki usually rises to the challenge, and this time is no exception.

Makki grins, this time more innocently. “Sorry, didn’t watch where he dropped!” 

Mattsun steps forward. “You fucking--”

“Enough,” Boss says before the two of them can really get at it. Immediately, Mattsun’s shoulders are dropping and he goes back to leaning against the wall with a look of indifference. His eyes are still trained on Boss, though. Waiting for the next command.

Ever since Boss joined their troupe, everything has clicked into place. He’s not the tallest, like Kunimi; he’s not the strongest, like Kyoutani; he’s not even the most cunning, like Yahaba and Makki. But he has the most level head of them all, paired with the leadership skills and the ability to care that Kunimi himself is lacking. Boss isn’t their most recent addition, but Kunimi will be the first to admit that he’s probably the most valuable. 

Boss is looking at the body on the floor, which has finally silenced, before he turns around. “Someone pike him. We have bigger things to worry about.” 

Kindaichi moves forward to shove a knife into the dead man’s brain. “Company?” He asks. 

“Company,” Boss confirms. “We’re going in hostile.” 

“Oh man, I love going in hostile,” Makki elbows Mattsun, who merely rolls his eyes. 

“What else is new?” 

“Are the others already down there?” Kunimi falls a half step behind Boss. Boss nods. 

“Our guests are trying to break in right now.” 

“We can’t have one fucking night, can we?” Kindaichi groans. 

“Aww, c’mon Kindaichi! It’ll be alright!” Makki grabs Kindaichi’s neck and gives him a noogie as they all make their way down the stairs of the house. 

“Company,” Boss reminds them, his voice exasperated but containing an air of amusement. 

Immediately they all ready up, grabbing their weapons and schooling their expressions. Makki still has an unsettling smile on his lips. It looks a lot like Yahaba’s creepy-as-fuck doll smile that he gets when he’s angry. Kunimi sort of hates himself for knowing the different smiles that his group members wear. 

Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Watari are waiting at the bottom of the stairs, weapons ready as they merely watch the new group try and break into the house that they’ve been holing up in for the past few days. It’s not an ideal battleground since the foyer with the front door is a bit cramped, but it will have to do.

“Updates,” Boss demands as they all take formation. 

“No projectile weapons that we can see. T minus 3 minutes before the door gives,” Watari says. “There are five that we can count.”

Boss nods. “Professor, take your place up the stairs with your crossbow,” he jerks his head at Kunimi, using his nickname. Kunimi makes his way up the stairs. “Everyone else, ready your weapons. QK, I want you to be the last one they see, so station yourself in the next room.” Mattsun salutes Boss and does as he says. 

“Mad Dog, I want you to be the first they see. Position yourself.” Kyoutani follows Boss’s orders without complaint, holding his axe ready. 

The door flies open and momentary chaos descends. Kyoutani grabs the first guy in, wrestling him for his weapon. The next person in is a muscled woman that Kindaichi rolls around with until he finally presses his knee to her chest to keep her on the ground. Mattsun sneaks around the fight that Makki and another woman are having to press his switchblade to the neck of an unsuspecting member of the opposing group. Yahaba and Boss disarm the last two, and Boss throws the man that he’s holding at Watari, who catches him effortlessly and wrenches his hands behind his back.

Kunimi walks down the stairs, pleased that he didn’t have to waste one of his arrows. They’ve been getting duller and duller with each target that he hits, and he doesn’t want to waste them more than he has to. He takes his place beside Boss as everyone else wrangles their respective hostage into a kneeling position, standing over them with their hands held forcefully behind their backs. 

Boss spares each one a quick glance before addressing them all. “I want to know who’s in charge.” 

They’re all silent for a moment before the muscled woman that Kindaichi is holding grits her teeth. “I am.” 

Boss looks at her without any emotion in his eyes. It’s a look that the rest of their troupe finds amusing, humorous even, but one that chills their enemies to the bone. Kunimi knows because he’s been on the receiving end of it before, back when they first met Boss. The look he had given them was desperate, hopeful, and completely terrifying. 

“Tell me why you’ve been following us,” Boss doesn’t leave it as a question. 

“We haven’t,” she says, but anyone with eyes or ears can tell that she’s lying. Kunimi whistles a single note, high in his range, and Boss reacts accordingly. 

“Sparky,” he nods to Kindaichi. Kindaichi tugs her arms further back, and there’s a sickening noise that indicates that at least one of her shoulders has dislocated. “Let’s try that again,” Boss says as she quiets down. “You’ve been following us. Tell me why.” She’s silent, not even looking at Boss, and he crouches closer to her. “You don’t want to know what I do when I’m impatient.” 

She grits her teeth again.

The man that Yahaba is holding suddenly twists from his grasp and tries to bolt, but barely makes it to the edge of the room before Yahaba is throwing him to the ground again, a fire in his eyes.

“Careful there, buddy,” Makki laughs. “We call your captor there Bomb Boy for a reason.” 

“Yeah. Never know when he’s gonna blow up,” Kunimi gets great joy from watching the man’s eyes widen in terror as Yahaba smiles pleasantly at him, with his neat hair and white, blood-splattered, collared shirt. They all laugh, but their captives know that they’re not joking. Good.

“Back to my question,” Boss turns his dead eyes to the leader. 

“You always clear out shelters and sometimes leave things. It’s safe to follow you.” She says. 

Kunimi hums lower in his register, a single burst of sound for Boss to hear. She’s telling the truth, but not the whole truth. 

“And why confront us now, then?”

She looks a little embarrassed. “We ran out of food.”

Boss lets her words marinate in the thickness of the group’s fear. Compared to their hostages, their troupe of survivors is much calmer under pressure. Or maybe they’re just used to not taking situations like this too seriously. 

Despite their laissez-faire approach, every member of their troupe is standing at attention, waiting with bated breath for Boss’s command. Well, Makki is playing with his captive by threatening to chop their hair off with his knife, but even the slightly sociopathy that Makki displays allows him to wait for orders from Boss. They will follow him, whether he tells them to kill every last one of their captives or to hogtie them to each other so they won’t be able to wriggle free for a few hours. 

Their group is efficient, Kunimi can give them all that. To him, they’ve always resembled the Lost Boys from Peter Pan, all of them with their own childish nickname and bandit facepaint to play the part. 

There’s Mattsun, with his eyes painted black and the name Quiet Killer, or QK for short. His footsteps are silent despite his incredible height, and he doesn’t speak often unless it’s to jeer at another member.

Then there’s Makki. He traces an eye inside of a flower onto his forehead with the paint to match his nickname of Flower Kid, which he pretends to hate but secretly loves. It makes people underestimate him, allows them to trust him completely before he breaks them with joy gleaming in his eyes.

Yahaba’s next, with Bomb Boy as his nickname and a painted-on arrow running down his left cheek and passing over his eye. He always has a pleasant look on his face that fronts for his wicked brain that doesn’t seem to forget anyone who’s wronged him.

There’s Watari, with a star under his right eye and the name Governor sitting heavy on his small shoulders. He’s their main strategist, the person you look to when you want to break into a building or break up a fight. Breaking seems to be his specialty. 

Then Kindaichi, also known as Sparky. The nickname comes from the Super Mario Bros universe, since Kindaichi’s old hairdo looked like one of the flame enemies in Bowser’s Castle. Now that they don’t have hair gel or spray he can’t spike it like he used to, but the name sticks. He has one triangle drawn above each eye, the tip pointed upwards. They almost look like clown eyebrows and Kindaichi, for no reason other than that he’s an idiot, loves them.

There’s Kyoutani, or Mad Dog, one of the newer members of their group along with Yahaba, but their best fighter. He paints his face with tiger stripes and keeps to himself unless Yahaba drags him into their activities.

Kunimi himself is known as Professor, mostly because of his stoic nature and unflappable expressions. He’s good at reading people from his lifelong role of wallflower, and Boss likes to use him as a human lie detector. Body language and voice inflection are his specialties, and those combined with the crossbow that he and Yahaba share make him a valuable enough member to stay on the team. He has triangles like Kindaichi, but his are painted under his eyes, the tips facing downward. Kunimi admits that he probably looks a bit like a clown, too. 

Lastly, of course, is Boss. He hasn’t shared his real name and Kunimi doubts he ever will. When questioned about it, the other man said that the person he was before he was Boss is dead, and so he won’t adopt that name again. When he had first started running with them, they had just called him “Dude.” But after a while, he became a part of the team, a leader even, and his name has been Boss ever since. He has jagged lines extending from his eyes and dropping down his cheeks like tears of lightning. 

They’re strong individually, even stronger together, and Kunimi is more than grateful for a group of cutthroat and intelligent people -- especially in this new world order. 

“We’re all hungry. You will not follow us anymore,” Boss says. “And your man will pay reparations for what he did to my man.” 

“What are you talking about?” Their leader asks, her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. She seems genuinely puzzled, so Kunimi stands silent and watches the others for signs of deceit. 

“You’re missing a man, am I right?” Boss asks. Her silence is enough of an answer. “He’s upstairs. Dead.” 

The unrest is immediate and sobering. Makki chuckles darkly. 

“The actions of the man upstairs and one other member of your group almost cost Bomb Boy his life,” Boss grits out. “If he had died, we’d have killed you all. But since he didn’t, I’ll spare the rest of your lives if you turn over the other person that aided the dead man upstairs.” 

“What happened to Haru?” The man that Kyoutani is holding asks, and Kyoutani tightens his grip on the man’s neck to assert dominance. 

Makki chuckles darkly, but it’s Mattsun that replies. “Flower Kid had his fun with him.” 

“He won’t turn,” Kunimi adds, just because their captives are looking at them like they’re all monsters. “We stabbed him in the brain.” 

“And we’ll extend the same courtesy to the other individual involved. But if you don’t turn them over, we will kill you all, no exceptions.” He makes eye contact with every single one of them. “I’ll tack on the warning that Flower Kid takes his time, and I can’t be held responsible for Mad Dog’s actions.” Both aforementioned members of their team share a grin, making their captives widen their eyes in unbridled terror. They know that they don’t have the upper ground. There’s no way out now.

Fifteen minutes later, their troupe is back on the road. 

“I literally just washed my shoes,” Mattsun is still complaining. 

“Well I literally just finished beating the lumps out of my pillow back there,” Yahaba grumbles. “Do you see me complaining?” 

“You just did.” 

“Inconsequential.”

“Stop using big words to make yourself feel superior!” Kyoutani inserts himself into the argument.

“I’m already superior without my immaculate vocabulary.”

“I honestly don’t know if he’s using those words correctly,” Kindaichi leans towards Kunimi and speaks the words out of the corner of his mouth. It doesn’t stop Yahaba from hearing him, and the blonde-haired man is immediately throwing his fists into the air.

“You want to fucking go, Kindaichi? I’ll put your skinny ass in its place.” 

“Kids!” Makki says with an exaggerated sigh. He puts himself between Yahaba and Kindaichi, slinging one arm over each of their shoulders. 

“Gross,” Kindaichi blanches at the sheer amount of blood Makki just transferred to them through his touch. “You don’t know where that’s been.” 

Makki hums delightedly. “Of course I do! It was inside Haru. And whatever that other fella’s name was that I brutally murdered.” 

Kunimi rolls his eyes. Makki is getting way too much enjoyment from this. 

“Is it murder if justice is served?” Kindaichi grins mischievously.

“That’s a good man!” Makki laughs, roughly wrapping an arm around Yahaba. “No one messes with our little Bomb Boy here and gets away with it.”

“Get off of me, asshole,” Yahaba shoves him petulantly, but there’s a small grin on his face. “And stop acting like an overbearing mother.”

Mattsun bursts into laughter at the stunned look on Makki’s face. Kunimi rolls his eyes and looks at Boss, who’s watching the scene with a fond and exasperated expression. Kunimi hides a smile. They may be a little crazy, but Kunimi’s always liked it that way. It makes shit a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

[Kuroo](https://youtu.be/6zckQ5kxXkM)

Life hardened Kuroo long before the apocalypse did. 

Years, over a decade, before the first news stories broke about the new deadly disease ravaging the world, Kuroo was learning to hide from enemies and outsmart stumbling idiots and patch up cuts and bruises. 

His life from before gave him his quick mind, his analytical nature, his unwavering ability to do what he needs to in order to survive. 

There’s no one person he won’t throw under the bus or deceive in order to get what he needs. He’s practiced in the arts of lying, cheating, and stealing. He’s remorseless in his anger, ruthless in his desperation. 

He’ll do whatever it takes to keep Kenma alive. And, ideally, happy. 

Reflecting, there are two things Kuroo has to thank his father for. The first is meeting Kenma. If it weren’t for his father, his mother never would have moved and he never would have become neighbors with one Kozume Kenma. 

He still remembers the feeling of the first time Kenma gently leaned his head on Kuroo’s shoulder one night when they stayed up too late playing video games. Kuroo was still fairly new to the neighborhood, and Kenma was still stiff around him. They were sitting side-by-side on the floor, leaning against Kenma’s bed and trying to clear the next level in his newest game, something with monsters and swords and fire. They had been less than halfway through another restart when Kuroo felt Kenma’s head ease onto his shoulder.

Ten years old, eyes wide with surprise, Kuroo had slowly turned his head to look at the smaller boy. He was near sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay awake to finish the level, but his head became a heavier weight as the minutes burned on. Finally, his fingers slipped on the joystick of the controller and he was still. 

Kuroo had been afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He hadn’t been touched by another person in over three years, not even by his own mother, and here was this boy, barely a friend, initiating prolonged physical contact with him. 

It had been religious, sitting with Kenma on his bedroom floor and watching him sleep. At the time Kuroo didn’t know why, but tears sprang to his eyes as he had quietly choked back sobs. 

To think, he hadn’t felt a gentle touch - one unmarred by fury or guilt - in so long 

...until that second, stilled in time as an insect might be in amber. 

Kuroo had imprinted on Kenma in that moment. There wasn’t a day they spent apart, a memory they didn’t share, a touch they didn’t cherish.

Kuroo didn’t feel anything until Kenma came into his life. Kenma, the light that allowed him to grow after he had lived in the shadow of his father for so long. 

The second thing he has to thank his father for is teaching him how to survive. 

“Stop taking dumb risks,” Kenma mutters so that no one else in their camp can hear, wrapping Kuroo’s wrist in part of a ripped t-shirt. They’re located a bit further away from everyone else, sitting against one of the cars encircling their makeshift camp. Their group has been here for a few days, getting their bearings.

Kuroo grins widely, the carefree smile that he knows Kenma likes. It works, because Kenma’s tight shoulders relax minutely. “Now, don’t you know me at all, Kitten?” And just like that, his shoulders are tensed again. Kuroo really has to stop opening his mouth.

“Kuroo-senpai, are you sure you’re okay?” Hinata carefully approaches them, like he’s worried Kuroo will attack him. In reality, it’s Kenma everyone has to watch out for. He’s sure that they’ll all learn sooner or later. 

Kuroo smiles reassuringly at the orange-haired boy. “I’m perfectly fine, Hinata. Just Kenma being overprotective.” Kenma bares his teeth a little, like a small dog might at a possible threat, or a cat might mid-hiss, but he’s facing away from Hinata so the other boy doesn’t see it. Kuroo knows that his boyfriend doesn’t mean it: Hinata is the person Kenma likes the most, other than himself. 

“If I can do anything…” Hinata is biting his top lip in worry, tugging at a strand of hair that falls limply over his eye. Kuroo’s never seen the kid so hesitant, and it’s almost funny. He leans forward seriously, trying to keep his hand still so Kenma can continue to work on it. 

“How about this. I’ll stay away from hoards of zombies, you stay away from Tora’s slingshot, and I’ll forget all about this. That good?” Hinata nods frantically. “Good,” Kuroo leans back again. “Now go get some food from Yaku. His eye is twitching because no one’s answered his call-to-dinner.” Hinata laughs a little, and Kuroo is relieved to see the smile back on his face. Ever since he had accidentally hit Kuroo’s hand with one of Taketora’s slingshot rocks a few hours before, he’s been a bit jumpy. 

“You let him off easy,” Kenma mumbles after Hinata bounces off.

“He didn’t mean any harm, he was only trying to help. Accidents happen. And he’s a kid.” Kuroo shrugs. “He deserves a break.”

“He could have hurt you even more,” Kenma huffs. He jerkily tugs the shirt, tying it tightly enough to make Kuroo wince. “What then? You’re already going to have a harder time with any threats until your wrist heals.”

“Relax,” Kuroo soothes. “He didn’t. And I have you to take care of me, don’t I?” 

Kenma is stubbornly silent. Time for a distraction. Kuroo quickly pulls at the hair tie that’s slipping from Kenma’s hair and places it carefully on his knee, despite Kenma’s small sound of protest.

“I forgot how dark your real hair color is,” Kuroo raises his non-injured hand and runs his fingers through Kenma’s curtain of thin hair. Most of it is dark now, only five or so centimeters of bleach still clinging onto the tips. 

“No you didn’t,” Kenma mumbles as he quickly and efficiently ducks out of Kuroo’s grip and grabs the hair tie, then secures his hair into a bun at the back of his head. 

Kuroo flashes his friend a smile. “No, I didn’t,” he agrees. 

Kenma lets out a long sigh at that. Kuroo feels triumphant: he knows he’s got him on this one. “Fine. I’ll stop being mad at Shouyou.” 

“That’s all I ask. We can’t start hating our team members now.” They’re a month into this accursed search for Akaashi, which is already taking place three months later than Bokuto (or any of them) wanted. They can’t afford animosity this early in. Speaking of Bokuto….

“How is he?” Kenma asks when he sees Kuroo’s gaze focused on his best friend. Bokuto is sitting next to Yaku at the fire, eating whatever dinner Yaku managed to scrounge up tonight, laughing with Tora and shoving spoonfuls of rice(?) into his mouth. To anyone else, he looks carefree. Happy. But Kuroo’s known him for quite a few years. He’s attuned to Bokuto’s look of defeat, to his frustration and anger and sadness and excitement and joy and pride. 

And right now, Bokuto is falling apart. 

It was bad enough before they even set out. It took their group at least a month to convince Oikawa that they could spare the people and the supplies, and even then they had to go to Ukai and Takeda to get them to agree first. The agreement had been met that they could take anyone who wanted to go with them, but they had to gather all of the supplies themselves. 

So they had. It had taken two more months of preparing before they were finally ready to set out. By then, they had a group that they were set on, a strong assemblage of fighters and thinkers and resourceful shits and friends. 

Then some of the promised members backed out. Said they’d rather go find their families. Kuroo doesn’t understand. There’s a reason he’s never broken away from his group to find his family like others do: his mother and sister possess the same survival skills that he does. He knows that they’re alive out there, somewhere, because their history of resilience doesn’t tell otherwise. But their former teammates left, and they were down to 8. 

And then Daichi had been forbidden to go by Yachi, one of Karasuno’s medics, because his arm had gotten infected and the pain was increasing as the days went by. Yachi determined that she’d likely have to go back into the wound and take out some of the clumped nerves or whatever and then restitch the wound in a way that would keep it from getting infected again. When they had left, Daichi’s fever was still raging but he had been insistent: they needed to leave, to find Akaashi before the trail went completely cold.

But it wasn’t as if they had much of a trail to go off of. All they had were Oikawa’s story and Ennoshita's warnings, which didn’t give them much. 

So the seven of them had started their journey, Daichi’s predicament and Akaashi’s possible fates hanging heavy over them. And Bokuto hasn’t been taking it well.

He’s been all smiles, ever-upbeat, taking Hinata under his wing and beating the shit out of zombies and fearlessly leading their search group through the unknown. 

But it’s just that. Unknown. They have no clue where Akaashi might be, and Bokuto knows this.

Kuroo can see it in the slump of Bokuto’s shoulders, in the way his eyes glaze over when he kills a zombie, in the frozen quality of his smile when he lets his guard down. Kuroo isn't the biggest fan of Akaashi: he's always thinking and scheming, he latched onto Bokuto without much explanation, and a badly-timed vertigo attack could cost both him and his group their lives. But Bokuto cares about him, and it breaks Kuroo’s heart to see his best friend hurting so deeply.

So he vows to protect him (quietly, he knows that Kenma does too). Kuroo is a survivor. And Bokuto won’t fail with Kuroo and Kenma by his side. 

He hopes he can help Bokuto heal if (when) they can’t find Akaashi.

Kenma threads his fingers through Kuroo’s hair, something that grounds them both. “He’ll be okay,” Kuroo finally answers. 

They’ll make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our story has begun! Let me know what you think! Also feel free to tell me who you hope to see or what you think will happen. Updates should be weekly, and tags will be updated as we go!
> 
> Fun facts!  
> \- Click on underlined character’s names to get a song that I listened to while writing! They’re all specially chosen for a total of 31 songs (if you include the fic title song).
> 
> \- Makki is a bit ooc because I decided to make him give no fucks and honestly he’s a little like Hisoka from HxH except much less creepy and I love that for him.
> 
> \- This is the second sequel I’ve ever followed up on. The first was an Addams Family/Teen Wolf crossover that lasted for 3 successive works.
> 
> \- Character aesthetic I never mentioned: Kuroo 1000000% wears biker gloves that he found on a corpse. He loves them so much, the dork, because he thinks they make him look badass (spoiler: they do. Kenma thinks they’re idiotic).


	2. need somewhere to begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some exciting news...I’ve actually been planning this fic, unlike my other ones that I usually just wing! It’s not amateur hour anymore, y’all, we’re out here actually adding foreshadowing and organizing like crazy! Hopefully that means that I’ll be able to tie everything up nicely, but we’ll see...Bar my future self drunk outlining again, I think we’ll be able to wrap this up in 10 chapters. Enjoy!
> 
> Also as a heads up, reading lips is real hard and takes a lot of practice and both Akaashi and Narita are fairly proficient at it mostly because they’re used to cutting out pieces of conversation that they naturally miss. If I wrote the world the way Akaashi actually sees it, then the dialogue would only be every other word or so. So, assume that whenever we have an Akaashi chapter, whatever others are saying to him might be his own way of paraphrasing it (unreliable narrators...we love to see it).  
> In this chapter there’s a bit of conversation that he’s having a really hard time deciphering...this will be written as heard.
> 
> CW for self-hatred and an anxiety attack. Un-beta'd!

* * *

[Suga](https://youtu.be/382BTxLNrow)

Suga is walking around the compound at a pleasant stroll, having just come from their medical center (i.e., a repurposed restaurant) and hearing good news about Daichi. His chest felt lighter than it had in months when Yachi told him that Daichi’s fever was finally down for the first time since the surgery. 

He’s on his way to get something to eat, since Kai’s on food duty this week and he always comes up with something interesting. Suga’s smile is free and unburdened, if only for a moment.

“Suga-san!”

Oh, what a wonderful moment that was.

He turns to see Yamaguchi jogging up to him from the direction of the wall. Behind him, Tsukishima trails with an uninterested expression on his face. Yamaguchi barely catches his breath before launching into his words. “So we can’t get Kageyama to come down and eat, and he hasn’t eaten anything or slept in like twenty hours.” Yamaguchi says “we,” but based on the annoyed tic of Tsukishima’s eyebrow, it’s only Yamaguchi who sees this information as worth mentioning. 

Suga sighs. “I’ll talk to him.” 

A wide smile overtakes Yamaguchi’s face. “Thanks, Suga-san!”

Suga sighs once Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are out of sight, letting his shoulders sag a bit from the weight of the day. He’ll be happy to take a quick bath in the showerhouse and then sleep for hopefully more than four consecutive hours. The dream seems so far away, yet only a few hundred steps from his current location. 

Instead, he turns the opposite direction and makes his way to the part of the wall that Kageyama usually stations himself at: the gates. The sun has already set, but there’s still enough light that Suga can see the silhouette of a teenage boy on top of the wall, projectile in hand and back turned to their compound. 

Suga mounts the ladder at the base of the wall near Kageyama’s station and climbs it unsteadily. He’s never been great with either heights or balance (once of the reasons he’s not fit to be a wall sentry), so he takes it slow and breathes half a sigh of relief when he makes it to the top without his worn sneakers slipping on the wooden rungs of the ladder. 

The younger boy is looking out at the horizon, sitting hunched on one of the plastic storage tubs that have extra medical supplies in them. His dark hair is messy, and dark circles have made their home under his normally bright blue eyes, now dulled by exhaustion. He’s abandoned his weapon in his lap in exchange for shoving his hands into the pockets of his light blue hoodie and his knees are pulled up a little higher than normal to provide him some relief from the cool air. 

“Kageyama,” he says gently, and he knows that he made enough noise climbing the ladder that the other boy won’t be startled by his words. “Mind if I join you?”

The dark-haired boy steals a quick glance at Suga before shaking his head slowly, moving over on the storage tub he’s sitting on so that Suga can sit, too. Suga fishes a granola bar out of his pocket and holds it out to the younger boy. “Here. Yamaguchi said you haven’t eaten in a while.”

Kageyama takes the half-melted snack and unwraps it, breaking off pieces with his fidgeting fingers and cramming them into his mouth. He never takes his eyes off of the fading horizon. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Suga asks him. He knows that he’ll get an honest answer, even if the answer Kageyama gives is one he doesn’t want to hear. 

“Few days ago,” he says, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You need to sleep,” Suga says, fully aware that he sounds like his mother. It’s moments like this when he misses her most. 

“I’m fine.” Kageyama shifts uncomfortably, trying to fidget away from Suga’s judgement. 

Suga sighs. “I miss them, too.” 

It was surprisingly hard to say goodbye to the search group. They took a few of the founding members of Karasuno, people that Suga and Kageyama had known for almost an entire year, and in the case of Hinata, even longer. To have those people by their side for so long only to have them _leave..._

Kageyama and Hinata’s goodbye was the most intriguing. They had decided that Kageyama’s job at the wall was too important, and Hinata felt a kinship with Bokuto that took him outside of the walls. Kageyama had, once again, been trying to talk Hinata out of the trip in the few minutes before they left. Hinata had just grinned at him.

_“I’ll miss you too, dummy!” He had hugged Kageyama quickly, then pulled away. “But this will be good! We can’t always be together, you know.”_

_Kageyama’s eyes had said, “Why not?” but the boy himself just swallowed thickly and nodded. “Be safe, dumbass,” he had said._

Suga has to refrain from rolling his eyes just thinking about it. Maybe if Kageyama had told Hinata about his giant crush on him, he could have convinced him to stay. So now, the rest of them are left dealing with a moody shift leader who stares wistfully at the horizon, as if he can manifest Hinata walking back to him by looking hard and long enough. 

“You didn’t have to stay,” Suga isn’t sure what makes him say it, but it makes Kageyama hunch in on himself even further. Oops. 

“Too late now, isn’t it?” Kageyama chews on the inside of his cheek. “Besides, I’m needed here.” 

“You’re right. So that means you have to be in tip-top shape, isn’t that right?” Suga nudges the other boy with his shoulder. “Come on, there’s plenty of people to take your place for the night while you sleep.” 

Suga stands, waiting for Kageyama, who hesitates. “I don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” Suga says, not unkindly. 

Kageyama purses his lips and nods once, firmly, before standing and going down the ladder unprompted. Suga follows him down and then watches him walk back towards his sleeping quarters with soft eyes. 

“He’s a good kid,” a smooth voice startles Suga, and he turns to see Oikawa standing next to him. He has Iwaizumi’s old walking stick tight in his grip, leaning on it despite there being no need for him to do so.

“That he is.” Suga turns to his friend and hesitates. “We missed you at dinner. Where were you?” 

“Lost track of time during my walk,” Oikawa says easily, looking at Suga as if he’s challenging him to claim otherwise. “I’d love to stay and talk, Suga-chan, but I’ve got to find someone to take over Tobio’s place on the wall. Ta-ta!” 

Suga watches him go, using the walking stick as a guide, his chest oddly heavy. Oikawa never used to lie to him so much, before.

In fact, when Oikawa and Iwaizumi had stumbled upon Karasuno back when it was barely a small span of wall, they had been painfully honest about themselves and their situation. Oikawa could barely stop crying and thanking them. And they had been great additions. Iwaizumi’s honesty and hardworking nature made the younger kids look up to him. He led by example. Oikawa’s true talent lied in bringing out the best in others. He had - has - an uncanny talent for picking out an individual’s strengths and utilizing them for the good of the community. 

It was that talent, and the charisma that followed once Oikawa hardened up a little more, that allowed him to gain the respect and trust of the compound. While it couldn’t be said that he wasn’t a bit off, Oikawa was a natural leader. And so a leader he became. Over the months, Suga found himself growing closer with the sunny man who called everyone by cutesy pet names to make them feel special. Together, they devised working schedules and food distribution and wall construction. They delegated and planned and maybe even schemed once in a while, just for the added fun and benefit. 

And then Iwaizumi died. 

In hindsight, it seems like Oikawa’s descent was unavoidable. It was clear from the moment Ukai Ikkei let them into Karasuno, blood flecking their faces like freckles and eyes crazed from what they’ve seen, that Oikawa depended on Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi calmed him, satiated the terrifying gleam in his eyes, hit him over the head with a well-timed cuff if he said something a bit too controversial. 

“He’s Oikawa’s handler,” Tsukishima had remarked after a few weeks of observing their newest additions. Suga couldn’t refute it, either. Oikawa followed Iwaizumi, trusting his lead explicitly. Iwaizumi did seem to have something that the rest of them didn’t. Something that tamed Oikawa’s frenetic energy. Something that was vital. 

Iwaizumi wasn’t only calming to Oikawa, though. He was a leader in his own right, able to bring a sense of peace to heated arguments and an understanding to hopeless situations. That isn’t to say that he wasn’t a bit hot-headed, it was actually the opposite. He had little patience for things he thought weren’t worthwhile and a biting remark for those he didn’t care for. But he was a lighthouse for Karasuno, showing them what to do in that quiet way of his. 

Suga realizes, finally, why his chest feels tight whenever he speaks with Oikawa now. Without Iwaizumi, Oikawa looks... _lost._ Suga doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression on the other man’s face before. Oikawa always had a plan. It scares Suga, to think about the madness that’s fueling their leader without anyone to guide him. 

As Suga glances back at Oikawa’s retreating form, he swears that he can see Iwaizumi trailing behind him, just another ghost left to haunt them.

* * *

[Akaashi](https://youtu.be/yzVQkO92wNw)  


His hearing is getting worse. 

He notices it when they’re in the hospital lab, and Sarukui is standing next to him, replying to something Fukunaga is saying from across the room. Fukunaga’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Sarukui laughs at whatever he said and replies, something quick and witty, and Keiji abruptly turns away, his heart catching in his throat as he tries not to panic. 

It’s not bad. He hasn’t been able to hear things from a distance like that in a while anyway. It could be worse, he reasons. He could have not heard Sarukui’s response, too. 

It does make it a little harder, now that his hearing is noticeably declining. He has to be more observant so that no one else catches on. If they know he has a weakness, they can exploit it. He’s been lucky thus far to not experience any spells of vertigo since arriving at Shiratorizawa, but it’s been four months, and he’s waiting for that luck to run out. Spells of mild dizziness have become much more common, he’s worked through about one per month since his last vertigo attack at Karasuno. Keiji isn’t sure how much longer his body will hold out. It’s frustrating to see his own body failing him, but he won’t give up now. Not when Shiratorizawa has a fresh scab to pick at. 

And Keiji’s never been good at letting scabs heal.

That’s how he finds himself sitting in the mess hall, a few days after the scientists manage to get the engineers transferred to their part of the compound, only a table away from a group of four well-known and outspoken farmers. He’s doing his best to eavesdrop and try not to stare too much, which is ridiculously hard for someone who’s half-deaf. 

“Don’t even…name,” one of them is saying, his brown hair falling in his face as he pouts sullenly. 

Another one, this man tall with a large smile on his face, flicks a piece of corn at the pouting one. “...downer! And I...complain! So let me!” 

Keiji’s ears perk up at that. Complaining can only mean discontent, and discontent means unrest. Unrest means that there’s something here that he can exploit. A scab to pick at, so to speak. 

“Fine...ahead...scientists.”

 _“They’re so full of themselves!”_ The smiling man slams his hands on the table overdramatically and says it so loudly that a few members of the table shush him. None of them look surprised by his outburst.

“Ugh...especially...hair? You know….Shirabu or whatever?” Another one pipes up.

“I swear, he’s making up words!” The loud one says. Keiji can’t help it. A snort escapes him at the loud one’s words. And it’s a loud snort. The brown-haired man whips his head to Keiji’s table with a scowl on his face. 

“You got a problem, egghead?” 

Keiji immediately puts his palms in the air, placating the other man. His face is probably flushed with embarrassment for being caught eavesdropping, and he tries to clear it of any obvious expression. “No problem, sorry.”

“Hey, you’re one of the scientists, aren’t you?” The only woman at the table points at him accusingly, and he again quickly raises his hands that he just put down. 

“Technically, but I get annoyed by Shirabu’s dumb vocab words, too. I swear, he quizzes me every time he gets the chance just to feel better than me,” Keiji stretches the truth, but it makes the woman put her finger down and the loud one laugh. 

“But you’re one of them,” the brown-haired man doesn’t seem to be comprehending.

“Doesn’t mean they don’t get on my nerves. Especially since Shirabu thinks he’s smarter than me. Like, he probably is, but he doesn’t have to rub it in my face!”

“Exactly!” The woman says, nodding emphatically. Keiji feels kind of bad about being mean to Shirabu, but not bad enough to stop. “Just because we don’t know anything about vaccines doesn’t mean that we aren’t useful, too!” 

The loud one pounds his hand on the table, excited. “Right!? Like I don’t know anything about bacteria or whatever but at least I can harvest a good kale crop.” 

Keiji doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the cause of zombies is likely a virus, not a bacteria, which is why they need a vaccine over antibiotics. He sort of hates himself for knowing that information, and hates himself even more knowing that he owes this knowledge to Shirabu. 

“Don’t tell the other scientists, alright? But I don’t like being around them much. I can’t really relate to them, you know?” 

“A man of culture at heart!” The loud one laughs, then hops from his table over to Keiji’s, bumping shoulders with him in the process. “I like you!” 

_“You’re dark, Akaashi! I like that!”_

“Oh gods, remember when Semi dropped Goshiki’s samples?” The woman barely gets out between her laughter. Just like that, Keiji’s ripped from the memory of his and Bokuto’s first meeting. 

The loud man curls his lips in the way that Goshiki does, waving his arms in the air. “‘Not my _samples!!’”_ He wails in mockery, and they all burst into laughter.

“Did you know that he says goodnight to each of his samples before we leave the lab every night?” Keiji grins mischievously at the farmers, and they all stare at him wide-eyed.

“No way,” the loud one whispers. 

“Way.” 

That leads to an even longer bout of laughter, enough that the brown-haired one is wiping at his eyes. “You know, you’re pretty great, Mr. Scientist.” 

_“I’m sure you’re great, Akaashi!”_

“What’s your name, anyhow?” 

“Akaashi.”

The brown-haired one smiles at him. “Nice to meet you, Akaashi. I’m Futakuchi. The oaf next to you is Koganegawa.”

“Call me Kogane,” he grins wildly. Keiji sees a familiar gleam in his eyes, one that almost leaves him breathless. 

“And then that’s Nametsu--”

“Call me Mai!”

“--and lastly this is Aone.” Futakuchi jerks a thumb at the man sitting at the end of the table, one who Keiji’s been careful to keep an eye on. He’s quiet and extremely tall, even sitting, but he’s been watching their interaction like a hawk. 

Keiji nods to them all. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Believe us, the pleasure is ours. Do you have any other embarrassing stories about the scientists?” Futakuchi grins excitedly. 

“Only a few,” Keiji confesses, then proceeds to tell them all about Fukunaga’s weird obsession with mushrooms ( _“You don’t understand, they’re not plant or animal! Something else!!”_ ), Komi’s for-fun analysis on different solutes and their boiling temperature, and Shibayama’s collection of skin samples ( _“The different states of decomposition are truly fascinating…”_ ). 

“They were telling me about how every month we have to petition for the engineers?” Keiji asks, trying to get the farmer’s thoughts on that particularly sore subject.

“Ugh!” Mai groans. Apparently it’s a hot topic among this crowd, too. “It’s so annoying. The scientists think they need the engineers so much more than we do because they’re so smart and used to getting what they want.”

“They don’t seem to realize that food is just as important as medical care,” Futakuchi points out, tapping a finger on the table. “Like yeah, we’ll die if we can’t treat infection. Guess what happens if we can’t harvest our crops? We also die!” 

Keiji can’t lie: they have a point. Food is an invaluable resource. 

“Were you able to get more seeds, then?” Keiji asks, remembering that Shiratorizawa had been hanging around Karasuno four months ago, apparently looking for seeds. 

Futakuchi furrows his brow, and Kogane actually tilts his head. “What do you mean?” 

Keiji clams up immediately. Uh oh. “Oh, I just...I had heard that you were short on seeds.” 

Futakuchi waves his hand in the air, as if waving Keiji’s concerns away. “Nah, we had too many seeds and not enough manpower to take care of the crops. So we set quite a few aside and have plenty for next year’s season.”

That gives Keiji pause. If Shiratorizawa wasn’t hurting for seeds, but even actually had an abundance, then why had Oikawa insinuated otherwise? 

“Wait, do you guys know why Shiratorizawa and Karasuno were disagreeing, then?”

“Oh yeah!” Futakuchi leans in closer. “So apparently your leader or whatever was angry that we were ‘encroaching’” -- he adds air quotes -- “on your scavenging territory. Which is stupid since none of the places we were scavenging even came close to Karasuno. And Ushijima wasn’t having any of Oikawa - that’s his name, right? Yeah, Oikawa’s - shit, so he told us to keep scavenging wherever we wanted.

“So Oikawa threatened us, but we ignored him, and then Karasuno escalated the whole thing by threatening war, and Shiratorizawa rose to the challenge. Finally, they came up with a deal, apparently. And then you were here, and Ushijima was telling us to stay away from the scavenging grounds near Karasuno.”

Mai takes a sip of water. “Apparently our two communities came to an agreement. Did you...not know? You were part of it.”

Keiji works valiantly to keep his face impassive. He’s angry, maybe angrier than he’s ever been barring Oikawa openly threatening Bokuto in front of him. How could Oikawa lie to them all like that? How could he keep up the lie? What sort of power did he actually hold? He grits his teeth and manages an answer. “The Karasuno leader and I weren’t close.” Understatement. 

“I’ve heard from Tendou that he’s hard to deal with,” Kogane mutters, trying to empathize. Keiji snorts. If only they knew.

Later that night, Keiji sits on the roof of the hospital, staring at the night sky. The stars, so bright in the Tokyo sky without the lights to dim them, remind him of Bokuto. His own personal beacon of light. 

_“Akaaaashiiiiii!”_

His easily-excitable voice is hard to forget. He wants to hear it again. Keiji feels sort of pathetic for missing it, but he misses the way Bokuto said his name a stupid amount. The stars look like a connect-the-dots picture, and he imagines that if he connects them they’ll reveal one of Bokuto’s ridiculous spray painted tags.

He wonders if Bokuto is tagging up Tokyo right now, looking for him just like he looked for Kuroo all those months ago. He wonders if Bokuto’s forgotten him. 

_“I would be so sad if you were missing,”_ Bokuto had said. Like a premonition. Like a promise. 

Somewhere, under these same stars, Bokuto might be missing him. He wonders if he knows that Keiji is missing him, too. 

* * *

[Bokuto](https://youtu.be/K2C6G3PCpqw)  


Shake.

Rattle. 

Squeeze.

Swipe.

Repeat.

Shake.

Rattle.

Squeeze.

Swipe.

Repeat.

Shake.

Rattle.

Squee--

Koutarou frowns at the can in his hands, only spraying aerosol now that the paint has been used up. He throws it to the side and walks over to his backpack, producing another spray can from it and shaking it in anticipation.

Rattle.

He carefully traces the pattern onto the side of the building, mouth set in a hard line from his focus. 

“Bokuto.” Kuroo’s voice is almost directly behind him, but Koutarou doesn’t look. “Bokuto, we have to keep moving now.” 

“I’m almost done,” he says. He holds himself still and stiff until he hears Kuroo’s sigh, then listens to his footsteps as he walks away. Koutarou enjoys the privacy of the moment anyways. The silence reminds him of his travels with--

Squeeze.

He adds the finishing flourish to the tag on the building’s light wash brick, then caps the spray paint and shoulders his backpack again, fists gripping the straps. It’s cold out, and he suppresses a shiver at the cool air as he stares at his handiwork. 

“Ready?” Kuroo’s voice again. Koutarou closes his eyes and turns towards his friend, nodding. “Hinata’s worried,” Kuroo mutters to him, and Koutarou nods in acknowledgement. Time to turn on the smile. 

He walks over to Hinata, who’s helping Yaku, Lev, and Tora dissemble camp. “How’s my disciple doing today? Ready for another day of killing zombies?” He flings an arm over Hinata’s shoulder and crushes the younger boy into his side in a violent sort of hug. 

Predictably, Hinata squirms in his grip and laughs. “Do you think we’ll see a lot today?” 

He hopes not. “Maybe! We’ll have to be prepared if we do.”

They’re prepared, because of course they are, and they run into a group of zombies, because of course they do. 

Back when they first set out on this impossible mission, Koutarou was interested to know why the four Karasuno community members were joining the search group. They hadn’t really known Koutarou or the rest of the group, and they definitely weren’t doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. 

Koutarou watches Hinata slam his boot into a zombie’s knee, making it tumble to the ground, before slamming his screwdriver into its head. His hatchet slaps noisily at his thigh. _“Adventure!”_ Hinata had said when Koutarou asked. _“I haven’t really been out of the compound, and I like killing zombies! It’s a lot of fun to go out and do stuff! That’s why I’m a scavenger for Karasuno.”_

Another zombie races after Hinata -- they’re fresh, newly-made, and it makes them fast. Koutarou opens his mouth in a scream as the zombie sloppily runs at him, but he’s too preoccupied wrestling his own zombie to offer Hinata any help. The smaller boy’s eyes widen incredibly as he notices the new enemy, and he doesn’t have time to yank his screwdriver from the first zombie’s head before the second one is descending upon him.

“Hey!!!” Is Yaku’s guttural scream as he tackles -- honest-to-gods _tackles_ \-- the zombie. Yaku and the zombie go rolling as he fights to not get scratched. 

Koutarou was confused by the addition of Yaku and Lev to the group, since the two of them were very well-established in the Karasuno community. Yaku had some specialized knowledge about some sort of technology thing or another (Koutarou isn't very good at remembering things like that) and Lev was a leader among the wall sentries. But when he and Kuroo had gone around recruiting, they were some of the first to show interest. 

_“It could actually be good for Karasuno,”_ Yaku had shrugged. _“It seems like you’re planning on checking out all of the surrounding communities. Lev and I can expand Karasuno’s contacts and also look for resource-rich areas of Tokyo. Plus, I want to get away from fuckin’ Oikawa.”_

Apparently, Yaku and Lev were a package deal, because when Kuroo asked Lev for his reasoning, he just shrugged and gestured vaguely to Yaku. Kuroo thinks that they have an ulterior motive for joining, but Bokuto isn’t worried as long as they keep helping him. 

A little ways off, Tora is reloading his slingshot and taking aim at a zombie on its way over to Lev. _“I’m bored here,”_ the man had said when they asked why he wanted to come along. _“Who knows what I can find beyond this wall?”_

“--kuto!!!” He suddenly hears Kenma’s voice near his ear, and Koutarou realizes that he’s still struggling with his own zombie, another on its way, attracted by the commotion. With a yell he heaves the zombie off of him and slams his hammer down on it. He misses the head and gets the neck instead, but it’s enough to make the zombie slow down. He turns to greet the other one, lifting his hammer over his head and bringing it rushing down on top of the zombie’s head. It crumples, brains spilling from the bloody mess of skull fragments. Koutarou kicks it aside and lunges at the zombie he left behind, which is on its way over to Kenma. He whacks it solidly a few times, then a few more times for good measure, and then once more just because he’s frustrated. 

When he looks up, there are still at least five zombies attacking his friends, and he waves his hammer in the air menacingly before going after the zombie trying to take a bite out of Kenma. He hopes Yaku is okay, but there’s no time to check. 

Koutarou enters a sort of reverie after that, his mind wandering to Akaashi as he repeatedly slams his hammer into zombie heads. 

Akaashi. 

Koutarou doesn’t like to think about him, is usually pretty good at keeping the other man out of his head, but remembering him is the best he can do right now since he can’t see him. He can’t even feel Akaashi’s presence at all, there’s nothing here that reminds him of his (boyfriend? lover? special person?) friend. He just wishes he could imagine Akaashi’s touch, or the smell of his sweat, or anything, really. But Akaashi is fading fast from his memory. He supposes that knowing someone for a few months and losing them for twice that amount of time doesn’t help cement their memory in your mind.

But he hasn’t forgotten the way Akaashi made him feel. Invincible and cool. Loved and appreciated. Like he was someone worth saving from zombies. 

“Bokuto!” Someone’s hands are on his arms, pulling him away from a zombie he was beating the shit out of. Its guts are splattered all over his clothes and he suddenly realizes that his throat is closing, chest heaving in hitching breaths as he tries to take a breath but fails. 

Kuroo immediately pats down Koutarou’s jacket and locates his inhaler, pushing it into Koutarou’s hand. He instinctively curls his fingers around the plastic object, letting his muscle memory take over as he fills his lungs with the medication. 

When he finally lets out his breath, able to breathe without wheezing, Kuroo takes the inhaler from him. And then slaps him across the face.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Kuroo yells, then immediately looks stricken. 

Kenma comes up beside Kuroo and gently grabs his wrist. Kuroo sits on the ground heavily, obeying Kenma’s silent command. Even though he’s known them for years, Koutarou still doesn’t understand how they communicate in that nonverbal language of theirs. He’s glad they’ve found each other, though, because Kenma brings out the rare gentleness in Kuroo and Kuroo brings out the confidence in Kenma. It’s like they were meant to perfectly compliment each other, two colors that always go together or a simple phrase that wouldn’t sound right without their exact combination of words.

Once Kuroo is sitting and relatively calm, Kenma descends upon Koutarou, a rag in his hand. His voice is softer than Koutarou deserves. “Let’s clean you up and check for bites and scratches. Can you feel anywhere that might have been hurt?” 

Koutarou shakes his head numbly and lets Kenma -- and a minute later, Yaku, too -- wash some of the blood from his arms and legs and neck to search for any signs of broken skin. Yaku roughly rolls up his sleeves to check his arms, shaking his head and muttering. “That was a stupid fucking thing to do. Reckless fucker.” 

Koutarou still isn’t exactly sure what he’s done, but he knows that he’s disappointed Kenma, and made Kuroo scared enough to try and shock him back into the present. Kuroo’s shock worked, but the slap leaves him a bit dazed and confused. 

Gods, if he was any less useful, he’d probably be dead. 

Koutarou sits silently through Kuroo and Yaku’s berating, letting Kenma’s rag dig roughly into the skin on his neck as he tries not to be too angry with himself. If only he could be as useful as Akaashi. Then his group wouldn’t have to worry. Then he’d be able to save them. Then they probably wouldn’t be on some wild goose chase for someone who’s probably dead. 

Finally, Kuroo and Yaku let up. Kuroo places his hand on Koutarou’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Please be careful,” his best friend murmurs. “I won’t be able to face Akaashi if something happened to you.” 

It’s the way Kuroo says it, as if finding Akaashi is inevitable, that makes something in Koutarou give way. He nods heavily, not making eye contact with Kuroo but not ignoring him, and his friend takes it, squeezing his shoulder before joining the circle of conversation going on between Lev, Hinata, and Tora. Kenma walks over to where Yaku is looking at what seems to be a factory. They’re probably scouting it out to see if they can stay there for a few nights as they scope out the area for a nearby community they heard about from a stray survivor. They’re close enough to Karasuno that they might have heard something about Akaashi.

Akaashi. 

Does he even know that Koutarou’s still looking for him? Or does he think that Koutarou is so useless that he can’t even find him? Has Akaashi given up on him too? Koutarou wouldn’t blame him: he’s so useless that he can’t even lead the group to find him. He doesn’t have one clue where Akaashi might be. (He thinks it’s slowly killing him.) 

He used to be able to close his eyes and imagine that Akaashi was with him, whispering advice into his ear. But after a few weeks without him, Akaashi’s careful guidance disappeared along with the curve of his jawline from Koutarou’s mind. 

The group is talking about food when he finally is able to pay attention again. Yaku is a bit further ahead than the rest of the group, scouting for a shelter. 

“I miss like, real BBQ! With seasonings and sauce!” Hinata is almost glowing, bouncing as he talks about it.

“I’d kill for some fresh fruit,” Kuroo bemoans.

“Yeah,” Lev concedes, looking as if Kuroo just suggested a hot shower or something equally unattainable, “not even Karasuno had that.”

Tora groans, fidgeting with his slingshot. “You know what I’d kill for? A sandwich. Like, imagine eating two pieces of bread. And cheese! And processed meat! Gods I miss sandwiches. One of those luxuries you never knew you’d have to miss.”

“Hey! I think this might be an alright spot to spend the night!” Yaku waves at the rest of them, now quite a few yards from where Koutarou had spotted him last. Kuroo shoots a quick look at Koutarou, who nods his head in assent. If it’s good enough for the sharp eyes of Yaku, it’s good enough for him. 

He heaves himself up to his feet and takes the rear of their little group, Hinata barely a few steps ahead of him. They can’t hear any signs of life (or death), but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything in this new world of pain and surprises. Anyone can be waiting behind the next corner to take you out. 

They all troop into the abandoned (is it even worth saying that word? everything looks abandoned these days) factory. Koutarou stares a little too long at the stilled conveyor belts and half-made shoes, then shakes his head and keeps following his group deeper into the factory. Apparently there are some offices above the main factory room that might suit their needs well. There should also be a locker room somewhere, where they can maybe (probably not, but worth a shot) find some water and rinse off. Koutarou knows that he smells a bit rank. 

They’re about to start climbing the metal stairs to where Yaku claims the offices are when Koutarou notices a shadow behind him. He barely gets out a cry of surprise before a few tall men bleed from the shadows of the factory. The setting sun isn’t in his group’s favor, and more men keep appearing from seemingly nowhere. 

A cursory glance around tells Koutarou that they’re completely surrounded by a group that looks a little bigger than their own, and much better armed. Koutarou takes a few steps away from the men until his back is pressed against Kuroo’s on his left and Hinata’s on his right, all of them reaching for weapons and not taking their eyes off of the newcomers. Tora’s slingshot is already loaded. 

This might be the end. Koutarou is proving himself as a useless leader when he can’t even keep his group from dying for a month. He sends up a prayer to Akaashi, wherever he is, asking for forgiveness. _I’m sorry I couldn’t find you._

A voice, rough and clear, slices through the thickness of the room. The sound is coming from the shadows right in front of Koutarou, and if he focuses enough he can see the silhouette of a muscled man before he steps into the light. His eyes are intense and his mouth is set firmly, though something akin to amusement rests there, too. The thing that draws the most attention are the lines of jagged black paint that drag from the man’s eyes all the way down his cheeks. 

They look like tear tracks.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man says lightly, nodding towards Tora, whose eyes widen with pure shock. “We have more weapons trained on you than you have on us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the way Bokuto's brain stutters every time he thinks Akaashi's name for me. Any guesses as to what Bokuto’s tag for Akaashi is? :)
> 
> Sorry if these first few chapters have been kind of boring, I promise we’ll get into some good stuff soon! This entire sequel is extremely character driven, just like last time, but this time there are so many characters that it’s taking me a while to set the scene for maximum plot enjoyment, ha! I hope you all enjoy the ride. 
> 
> A quick thank you to jazmine18, 2ndfn, and rosebudz for your support! Your comments throughout the main fic and companion pieces were instrumental in giving me the motivation to write this, and I appreciate you all so much for taking the time to write your kind comments :)
> 
> Fun facts!!  
> \- There are a total of 68 characters in this fic! Of course, not all of them are featured, and some don’t even show up at all and are only referenced! But they’re definitely still there haha. They live in my head and don’t pay rent but I love them anyways. 
> 
> \- This is the first time I’m writing a fic where the main pairing is separated for such a prolonged period of time, hence why we see so many side pairings.
> 
> \- I vetted my roommate for many plot points. I will not apologize. She’s lowkey my beta without any of the actual responsibilities of a beta. She’ll never see this, but thanks C!


	3. where have you gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long note with cw, please bear with me.
> 
> Alright a few things in preparation for this chapter. Oikawa is very, very traumatized by the things he has seen paired with his previous mental health issues.
> 
> I would not wish to diagnose Oikawa with any definiteness because mental health can be wild and awful and confusing. So the content warning here is for mental health issues that may include but are not limited to: panic attacks, dissociation, paranoia, and flashbacks.
> 
> If you feel that anything is misrepresented, offensive, or - god forbid - romanticized, please let me know and I’ll assess it. 
> 
> Iwaizumi was NOT Oikawa’s cure, or his bandaid or something. LOVE IS NOT A CURE FOR MENTAL ILLNESS. He was his support system, and losing that was incredibly traumatizing and triggering for someone already battling mental illness. If you want more about this in the story, I recommend reading the IwaOi companion piece for this fic.
> 
> Heavy stuff aside, I really do like this chapter so I hope you all enjoy it too :) Un-beta'd!

* * *

[Oikawa](https://youtu.be/edB_VJz_jX4)

“We haven’t seen Shiratorizawa members in months,” Ennoshita reports. “It seems that whatever you did is still working.” 

Right, of course, but for how long? 

“Thank you. You can go.” Oikawa waves the dark-haired man away. He doesn’t miss the heated look Ennoshita gives him, but he ignores it. He knows that Ennoshita hates him. He never misses the barely-contained looks of contempt or the snarls behind his back. He even knows the reason for them: Oikawa is powerful, and Ennoshita is not. That’s how the world works now. Those with power will always be envied by those without it. 

Ennoshita will go off to fuck around with that little boytoy of his that he’s so desperate to protect while Oikawa will continue to keep them all safe. Ennoshita is weak, plain and simple, and that’s why he’ll never have power. 

Oikawa stares at the numbers Suga gave him. They’re doing fine on food and supplies now, but what about next week? What about when Shiratorizawa decides to break their deal and start coming into their territory again, taking their resources again? Karasuno won’t be able to sustain itself and all of the people - his people - will die or leave. 

He slams down his hand on the papers, making a few flutter from his desk onto the floor. He ignores them, balling his hand into a fist and breathing deeply. Shiratorizawa can’t be trusted in the same way Ennoshita can’t be trusted: they take and take and expect things to be given to them without regard for anyone but themselves. 

That’s why no one can be trusted. Everyone is only looking out for themselves. There are no good people. There are _no_ good people. There are no people worthy of being alive because there are no good people, himself included. 

Oikawa flexes his fist. He’s the worst of them all, isn’t he? He’s the one who can’t be trusted. He’s the one that killed Iwaizumi. 

Well, no, not him, the bandits actually killed him. But he’s the one who wasn’t there in time. He’s the one that made Iwa-chan mad, who made him run off without Oikawa there, who made him take that blade to the side. The blood…

Iwaizumi is standing right there at the end of his desk, his eyes betrayed. Why’d you let me die? Why’d you let me die, Shittykawa? Why’d you-

A loud knocking sounds at the door to his room and Oikawa startles badly enough to fall off of his chair.

“Oikawa? You in there?” 

He snaps his eyes back to where Iwaizumi was standing - his sentry and his shadow - only to see nothing. He swallows. “Um, just a moment.” His voice is higher than he means it to be, but he takes a shaky breath in and stands, placing his feelings behind a mask of indifference. “Yes?” 

Konoha walks in, his eyes narrowed. “Everything okay?” 

“Everything is just fine, Kono-chan. Why?” Oikawa gives him a sappy smile, and Konoha just rolls his eyes. Konoha’s too smart for his own good, that’s what he is. 

“Nothing, ugh, forget I asked. I got news from Inarizaki.” He places a hand on Oikawa’s desk, stooping to pick up the fallen papers before laying them out on his desk again. “They have news on the movements of the bandit troupe.” 

Oikawa’s mind whites out. The bandit troupe. Their enemy. It sounds like Konoha is speaking to him through a tube, and he feels his heart racing in his chest. Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan’s killers are out there, somewhere close. Somewhere tangible. Konoha is saying something, but nothing is computing correctly. He wonders what it will feel like to wrap his hands around their necks and beat them until they can’t recognize themselves anymore. 

“-hey. Hey! Oikawa?” When Oikawa blinks back into the same reality as Konoha, the other man is looking at him as if he’s grown another eye. “Um. Hello?” 

“Continue,” Oikawa waves his hand, trying to mask his mortification of being caught drifting. He knows that his mind wanders to strange and faraway places, but he tries to only do that when no one else is around. It’s impossible to control, though, and it frustrates him to no end. 

“That’s pretty much it. Inarizaki will be here in a few days to update you fully and ask about their next moves.”

Oikawa grins widely. “Excellent. Thank you, Konoha. You can leave now.”

Konoha looks at him for a moment. “When you, uh, do that thing-”

“Leave!” He shouts, and Konoha throws his hands in the air in frustration. 

“I’m gone!” The door slams behind him. 

Gone. Gone. Just like everyone else, he’s gone. Good. Tooru doesn’t want him here anyways. He wants to go back to being alone. No one else. Just him and his paperwork and the empty room. He’ll find a way to keep Karasuno safe by himself. He’ll keep them safe. This time, he won’t fail. 

Oikawa looks up to see Iwaizumi standing there again. He screams in vexation, throwing anything within reach at the apparition. The plastic plate on his desk, his pens, the papers. Iwaizumi doesn’t move, just stands there and watches Oikawa with that tragic lopsided smile of his. 

_“Why are you here?” A young boy with mud on his nose and bandaids on his knees frowns at Tooru, a small jar clasped in his tiny hands._

_“My family just moved here! I’m Tooru!”_

_“No, I mean why are you in my mom’s garden?”_

_Tooru shrugs. “I liked the flowers, and then I saw you. You look interesting. Want to play volleyball with me? What’s that in your hands?”_

_“A cicada. Wanna see?” The boy with bandaids on his knees and mud on his nose holds out his prize. Tooru wrinkles his nose in disgust._

_“It kinda looks like an alien,” he says._

_“You kinda look like an alien,” the boy retaliates, closing his hands around the insect once again._

_“That’s so mean! Why would you be so mean!?” Tooru stomps and yells, tears welling in his eyes._

_“You were mean first!”_

_“But I called a bug an alien! You called me an alien!”_

_“Well I’m not sorry! You can’t be mean to bugs. Otherwise I won’t be your friend.”_

_Tooru glares. “Well I don’t want to be your friend anyways. You’re a meanie!”_

“Why are you here?” Oikawa asks him, echoing the first thing Iwaizumi ever said to him. He hates it. He hates being able to see him. It’s as if the universe is mocking him. _Everyone else has left you, except him._ The one person he wishes would leave. The one person he doesn’t want here to see him losing his fucking goddamn shit-for-brains mind. 

Like always, Iwaizumi is nothing more than a witness to Oikawa’s mire, except this time he can’t offer any comfort or support. He just watches, Oikawa’s guardian angel and judge in equal amounts. 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa sinks back into his chair, head in his hands. When he looks back up, Iwaizumi is covered in blood, a comforting smile on his face. 

The boy with mud on his nose and bandages on his knees is all grown up, 

frozen in time, 

never again to celebrate another sunrise or birthday or reunion. 

The mud is replaced with blood, the bandaids swapped out for scars. Iwaizumi’s smile is reassuring, like it always is. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. You, go. Get out of here. I’ll be fine.

He’s not fine.

* * *

[Kunimi](https://youtu.be/eauZzwt8Ci8)

The shelter was too good not to have someone already squatting in it, so of course that’s the one Watari set his sights on. It was a factory, probably two stories with windows that were too high for zombies to get in through. One main set of doors, another in the back for loading that was barricaded. A few emergency exits scattered around the building. It was defendable, lockable, and provided height, which was one of the most effective deterrents for zombies. 

“Going in cautious,” Boss calls to them, lug wrench in hand. The rest of them split into their predetermined pairs and approach each of the entrances. Kunimi and Kyoutani shake their heads after attempting their doors, but Boss and Makki have some luck, so Kunimi and Kindaichi follow Boss and Watari while Kyoutani and Yahaba join Makki and Mattsun. 

“It’s big,” Kindaichi whispers to him as they enter the building. They’re on an upper level, so they can see the wide, open floor plan of the main floor. There’s plenty of machines and an innumerable amount of shoes. Kunimi glances down at his own worn sneakers and wonders if he can find a matching pair in his size. 

“I see two,” Boss points across the room, where two figures are hanging around one of the machines. “Watari and I have them. Watch our backs?” Kindaichi and Kunimi nod, following quickly and quietly after Boss and Watari as they make their way across the upper level to get over the top of the two figures.

On their way around the room, Kindaichi lets out a strangled yelp and Kunimi turns suddenly to see that someone has their hands wrapped around the neck of his friend. It looks like they came from a doorway to the left. He glances back at Boss and Watari, but they’re already too far ahead. Kunimi chases after the person who’s currently dragging Kindaichi further into the room. 

It’s a mess. 

Kindiachi is scrabbling at the man’s hands around his neck. Not even a yard from him is Yahaba struggling with another person on the ground as they both try to gain the upper hand. Further back in the room, Kyoutani is exchanging blows with a muscular woman with long hair. 

“Professor,” Yahaba gasps, his attacker on top of him. He has a hand outstretched towards Kunimi on the floor, and Kunimi slides an arrow to Yahaba. He then quickly shrugs off his drawstring bag and grabs for whatever is on top, hoping to find another weapon for himself. A crossbow isn’t helpful in this close of quarters. He stares down at the singular chopstick now clutched in his hand, shrugs, then rolls back his shoulders and rocks on his heels as he eyes up Kindaichi’s attacker. 

Kunimi isn’t about to let his friends have all the fun. 

He takes a few running steps and lunges at the man who has Kindaichi in his grasp, thrusting the chopstick into the man’s neck. He screams and thrashes, and Kunimi grimaces. Fuck. He missed. 

They roll on the ground, fighting for dominance, and the chopstick slips out his neck and rolls out of reach. Kindaichi is gasping for breath and has his sights set on another person entering the room, so Kunimi’s on his own unless Yahaba wins his fight first (unlikely). 

The man is much larger than Kunimi, and despite the blood spilling from his neck, he still holds Kunimi down with considerable strength, slamming his head into the concrete. Kunimi sees stars after the second impact, and he reaches his hand up jerkily to jab his fingers straight into the hole the chopstick made. The stranger lets out another scream, and it’s enough for Kunimi to wiggle out from under him and tackle him, pushing his fingers deeper into the wound. He wiggles his fingers as much as he’s able, pulling at whatever he can in hopes that it’ll trigger more blood loss. 

The man jerks violently away from him, and Kunimi takes the second of respite to lunge for the chopstick and stick it straight into his neck again, this time with more precise aim. Kunimi grins as blood spurts from the wound, indicating that he hit an artery. It spills around him like a sprinkler, and he can’t stop the slight curl of his lips that overtakes his normally apathetic demeanor. 

“Gross, Kunimi,” Yahaba huffs, staring at Kunimi from where he’s breathing heavily over the body of his attacker. Blood leaks from a crack in their head, pooling around the concrete floor. 

His adrenaline starts wearing off surprisingly quickly, and his hand flies to the back of his head. “Fuck,” he whispers, feeling the bump forming there. He can feel his heartbeat in his head, pulsing in time with his brand new headache. The fucker bleeding out on the floor left him with a nice present, didn’t he?

“Oi, what happened, Kunimi?” Kindaichi approaches him worriedly, his own assailant thrown out of the second story window. Kunimi wonders if they’re actually dead. Kyoutani’s is, and he sees the snarling man yank his axe from his assailant’s head. 

“Hit my head,” he groans, wincing as Kindaichi starts prodding at it. 

“That doesn’t feel good. There’s already a lump forming,” Kindaichi eyes him worriedly. “Does your head feel funny?” Kunimi glares at him. “No, really. You could have a concussion.” 

“I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion,” Kunimi grumbles, moving to stand. He manages it without falling back down, which he counts as a win. He isn’t really dizzy or anything, just in pain. “Let’s see how the others are.” 

Both Kindaichi and Yahaba are watching him carefully, as if he might collapse or spontaneously combust or some shit, so he’s careful to draw himself up to his full height as he scoops down to pick up the fallen crossbow and leads them back to the main group. 

They’ve been busy, if the small smattering of bodies on the main floor is anything to go by. Boss is wincing as he pokes at a cut above his eye, looking annoyed. Makki and Mattsun are dragging the bodies outside, still on high alert for any stragglers, and Watari is starting to check the other side rooms of the factory for survivors. 

“We’ll sleep right here,” Boss indicates to the center of the main floor. “If there’s anyone else here they won’t be stupid enough to try and attack us out in the open.”

“And if they are, we’ll show them,” Makki grins, wiping at the sweat on his brow and leaving a streak of blood that definitely isn’t his. Mattsun reaches up and wipes it away with his thumb. 

They set up their camp methodically, the routine comfortable and familiar. Kyoutani and Kindaichi barricade the doors while Kunimi takes stock of their bags and supplies to see what needs replenished. Watari looks at their food supplies so they know what they need to look for while they’re in the area, and Yahaba asks around about injuries while he counts bodies. Boss and Mattsun start spreading out bedrolls while Makki finishes with the rest of the bodies, then helps with the doors. 

“Good work today,” Boss says as they settle on their bedrolls (well, saying bedrolls is generous. Thick blankets that are hardly better than the cool cement ground is probably a better comparison). They’re arranged in a circle around the fire that Yahaba started for them, talking amongst themselves as they wait for Boss’s nightly debrief. 

“Tomorrow we’ll scavenge for Watari’s listed items. Plan on staying here for a few days before we head out. We’re still over a week from the supposed community right outside of Tokyo, so we’re not in any hurry. We want to be careful with our supplies if we’re going this far out from Shiratorizawa and Inarizaki. Any questions?” 

That’s another thing about Boss: he gives their group of misfits purpose. Before him, they raided and killed and had fun, but now that Boss is a big part of their group, they focus on making connections and collecting information. Information is a valuable currency in this new world and Boss is determined to have as much of it as possible. And as long as that gives the rest of them an excuse to do as they please, they’ll follow him.

“I have a concern,” Kindaichi waves his hand in the air. “Kunimi banged his head pretty hard today.”

Boss turns his calculating eyes to Kunimi. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine,” he shoots a glare at Kindaichi, but the movement causes a burst of pain that whites his vision for a second. He can’t hide his wince. 

“It was really hard. Made an awful sound,” Kindaichi says, looking apologetically to Kunimi. 

Boss stands and moves over to Kunimi’s bedroll, crouching in front of him. He holds his finger up. “I want you to follow my finger with your head, don’t move your eyes.” Kunimi does it. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” He nods, and Boss reaches his large hands behind Kunimi’s head and prods the back of his neck gently, moving up as he continues putting pressure on different spots. He puts his finger up again. “Now I want you to just follow my finger with your eyes.” Once he does, Boss turns to Yahaba. “Do you still have that flashlight?”

Yahaba pulls it from his pocket and tosses it to Boss. “Here.”

Boss clicks it on and gently holds one of Kunimi’s eyelids open, flashing the light in his eye. “Tell me a story,” he says.

“What?” Kunimi asks.

“I need to make sure your speech and memory is fine. Tell me a story about your life.”

Kunimi blinks for a moment, trying not to focus on the light shining in his eye. “Uh, once in my physics class one of my classmates asked if we could study together. She was really pretty so I said yes, and we started a study group together. She was a lot smarter than me, though, so she taught me most of that class. We once went rock climbing so she could teach me about friction and suspension.” 

Boss pulls away, tossing the flashlight back to Yahaba as he stands. “Up,” he commands, and Kunimi stands, feeling suddenly embarrassed that everyone is looking at them. “Stand on one leg.”

“Um,” Kunimi says, but does it anyway. Boss stares at him critically for a moment before nodding. Kunimi sits back down as Boss goes back to his own bedroll.

“You should be okay, but just make sure to be careful for the next few days. And I want you waking up every few hours, so whoever is on watch needs to wake him up before you switch shifts.” He starts rifling through his bag for the food they keep so that they can start on dinner. “What?” Boss asks, apparently feeling the eyes on him.

“What was that just now?” Makki asks, looking amused.

“I won’t be taking questions,” Boss grunts, passing around a can of glazed carrots and a package of sweets. He stands again. “I’ll be on the perimeter for a while. Figure out the watch schedule.” With that he’s gone, the rest of them watching after him. 

“Touchy much?” Kindaichi grins, trying to lighten the mood. The rest of them shrug.

“Was that story true?” Watari asks Kunimi. 

Kunimi shrugs. “Yeah. Asami-san and I were getting pretty close before...well, all this.” The can gets passed to him and he scoops out some carrots. “I’d be much better without this dumb apocalypse.”

“Really?” Yahaba asks. “I think I much prefer this. We get so much freedom! And we do whatever we want. No rules, tons of violence, I feel like I’m in a movie.” He looks around curiously. “Do you guys miss before?” 

“There isn’t a before,” Kyoutani spits onto the concrete floor, rubbing over the wet spot with his shoe to cover it in dirt. “There’s only now.”

Kindaichi rolls his eyes. “Dramatic much?”

“What about you, Watari?” 

Watari hums in thought. “I do kinda miss before. I was flirting with this girl for a while, thinking it might go somewhere.” He laughs. “I went from awkwardly flirting with pretty girls to bashing brains in. I don’t think that’s an upgrade.”

They all nod contemplatively, turning their eyes to Yahaba to see if he can come up with a good response to that. 

“Don’t look at me,” Yahaba holds his hands up in surrender, amused. “I couldn’t even afford my rent payments. The apocalypse is probably the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“What about you two?” Kindaichi looks over at Mattsun and Makki. “You’ve been awfully quiet. You better off now?”

Makki has his head resting on Mattsun’s shoulder where they sit pressed against each other. “Mattsun was getting his degree. Gonna work in mortuary sciences,” he ribs his friend, who rolls his eyes fondly.

“Kinda weird, QK,” Kindaichi grins at him. 

“Yeah, and I thought you couldn’t get creepier.” Yahaba rolls his eyes, earning a light cuff to the back of the head from Boss as he comes back from his quick check of the perimeter. Mattsun just smiles lazily. Kunimi can see it. Mattsun, despite the silence that puts you on edge and the dangerous look he gets when he needs to, has a sort of quiet calm to him. It isn’t hard to imagine him running his own funeral home or working as a mortician. 

“I never had anything going for me anyways,” Makki continues airily, a lopsided smile on his face. “When all of this went down, I was between jobs. Again.”

Mattsun’s mouth quirks downwards into a little frown at that. His low, gentle voice fills the air underneath the floating quality that Makki’s tone has. “But you made the most beautiful paintings, Hiro.” 

Makki gently thumps the back of his hand onto Mattsun’s chest. “Stop embarrassing me.”

The rest of them decide not to tease Makki (yet), instead letting the good mood of the group wash over them. They don’t have many nights like this, where they can just sit around and talk about the past. Usually they’re killing something or other, or trying to see who can cause the most property damage in thirty minutes. Sometimes they fight each other because they get bored. It’s nice to do this for once. 

“What about you, Boss?” Yahaba asks. “Are you glad the apocalypse happened?”

Boss gives them all that blank look he has, the one that makes Kunimi feel like he’s about to be swallowed by a great beast. He wants to run or fight, but he freezes. Every time. 

Again, Boss walks out of the room, not dignifying the question with a response.

“Jeesh. Just a question.” Yahaba rolls his eyes at the doorway Boss disappeared through. But the damage has been done. Boss’s odd reaction makes everyone uneasy, frozen with concern or curiosity for their elusive leader. 

“You think he had someone before and he’s still broken up about it?” Kindiachi asks, and Makki kicks him, causing Kindaichi to yelp and retaliate with his fist. 

“Shut the fuck up, Kindaichi.” Makki’s eyes are dangerous, his hand curling tightly around Mattsun’s wrist. Kunimi theorizes that it’ll leave a bruise on the curly-haired man’s arm. “You don’t know the fuck you’re talking about.” Makki stands and leaves the room too, and Mattsun jumps up and follows him.

And just like that, the moment’s over. 

“They didn’t know Boss before, right?” Yahaba asks.

Kunimi chews his lip. “No. But I know that Mattsun and Makki have lost all their siblings,” he shrugs. “I’m sure they can relate.” 

“We’ve all lost people,” Kindaichi grumbles.

“But did we all have to watch them die?” Watari mumbles, shoving a carrot piece into his mouth. That silences them all. For most of them, they just assume that their families are dead. It’s easier than holding onto hope and more pragmatic than going out to look for them. But to know...and to know because you watched them die? Yeah, that’s a bit heavy. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Kunimi says. “And whoever I wake up better not fucking complain about it.”

“No promises,” Kindaichi tries to joke, but it falls flat. Everyone turns over on their bedrolls, falling into an uneasy sleep. 

Kunimi curses this fucking apocalypse that made them all lose so much. As fun as it can be, it’s also a real fucking headache. 

The next day their temporary shelter is invaded, and nothing prepares Kunimi for the short orange-haired boy who stares at Boss as if he’s some kind of apparition. 

Boss’s face is impassive, as per usual, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Kunimi wildly uncomfortable as he flicks them all over the orange-haired boy’s face. It reminds Kunimi of the way his own mother would rake her eyes over his body whenever he would take a tumble from his bike, or the one time he tripped down the stairs. The action is so simple and familiar, so full of care, that it’s almost painful to watch. 

“Iwaizumi?” 

At the name, Boss’s eyebrows twitch almost imperceptibly, his mouth hardening in the same movement. His hand is still poised in the air, ready to give them instruction, so Kunimi’s finger stays on the trigger of the crossbow, pointed at the guy with the mohawk who’s holding onto a slingshot. Everyone’s waiting to see what he’ll do, the intruders included. 

Kunimi is a self-proclaimed expert in body language. He prides himself in being able to read people before they even open their mouths. But this is confusing him. The orange-haired boy...he’s devastated. His shoulders are drawn up as if he’s waiting for a blow, and it’s not a physical one. His lips are dripping blood from how hard he bit down on them, and his chest is heaving. Kunimi is a bit afraid of the danger of hyperventilation that the smaller boy might be in. 

And Boss...he looks like he’s losing a fight even though he hasn’t moved. Sweat breaks out on his brow and Kunimi can tell that there’s some sort of argument going on in his head. The fingers on his raised hand twitch, as if he wants to tell them to attack but can’t quite bring himself to do it. Everyone else is frozen until the shortest man in the group of intruders turns around and gasps, an awful gasp that draws every molecule of oxygen from his lungs. 

Boss finally lowers his hand and cracks the most terrible, miserable smile Kunimi’s ever seen. “I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

* * *

[Kuroo](https://youtu.be/_ihul_7ZT6k)

“Hello, Hinata,” the man with jagged black lines painted from his eyes says gently, looking at the youngest member of their group as he steps from the crowd of painted strangers. 

Hinata opens his mouth, reaching out a hand and taking a single step forward, before suddenly retracting it. A look of hurt replaces the stunned shock on his face, and his expression crumbles just as quickly as it formed. “How…? I...I don’t understand.” He looks between the man and their own group slowly, as if trying to comprehend the situation. His eyes are wide and lost. 

“What the fuck.” Yaku stares at the man, stuck in his shock just as much as Hinata is. 

“I’m sorry I had to lie,” the man steps towards Hinata, who takes a few hurried steps back, a look of complete betrayal on his face. “Hinata,” he says again, this time with a bit more authority.

“No!” Hinata clamps his hands over his ears. “You died! I’m not listening to you! You died!” 

The man doesn’t let a lot of emotion bleed into his expression, just looks at Hinata’s childish reaction with a melancholy smile. 

Kuroo’s brain finally pieces it together. Well, fuck. The man standing in front of them is Iwa-whatever. Oikawa’s lover. Arguably the reason why Karasuno is going slightly mad. Supposedly dead. Apparently not.

A quick glance at Kenma on his left confirms that his boyfriend has caught on, too. Bokuto is still a little puzzled, but seems to understand the gravity of the situation, as he doesn’t step forward to take control of what’s happening quite yet. From the way he’s flicking his eyes between the man and Kuroo, Bokuto will likely leave it to him. Though ultimately, this is between Karasuno and this Iwa guy. 

“Iwaizumi,” Tora whispers, looking as if he’s seen a ghost. Technically, he has. 

“Hello, Tora.”

“You fucking asshole!” Yaku jolts to life and breaks their defensive circle to march towards Iwaizumi, causing the bigger man’s group to simultaneously seize up, as if they were one mind but many bodies. Lev notices too and catches Yaku by the sleeve before he can get too close. “You left us with him! You fucking coward! How could you!?” 

“Yaku,” Iwaizumi is the one who takes a step back this time, and Kuroo can’t blame him. Yaku might actually be the most intimidating person Kuroo’s ever met. 

“Don’t _Yaku_ me!” The shorter man steps forward again, and Lev tugs him back just in time, since one of the other men -- one with dark hair and dangerous eyes -- places a blade between Iwaizumi and Yaku. Yaku’s eyes flash to the dark-haired man. “Oh, I see how it is. You saw that Oikawa was losing it and so you left us for another group. Didn’t take you for a coward.” 

At Oikawa’s name, Iwaizumi flinches. He doesn’t confirm nor deny it. 

“Is this the bandit group that Oikawa’s losing it over? Did you really fucking do that to us?” Yaku continues, his voice choking up.

“Don’t take another step,” the light-haired man standing on the other side of Iwaizumi says. His eyes are just as dangerous as the dark-haired man’s, but they have a crazy glaze to them that makes Kuroo uneasy. Hell, this whole situation makes him uneasy. The air is heavy in the same way it is before a storm. Kuroo is familiar with the feeling: these same clouds hung over his house often in the minutes before his father would get home, on the weekends when he would sneak out his bedroom window, on the mornings when Kenma would knock on his door after not getting a text from him in a few days. 

He wants to make it go away. 

“Hey now,” Kuroo steps out of their formation. “None of that. We don’t want to hurt you, right?” Kuroo trains his eyes on Yaku, then jerks his head at Lev, who pulls Yaku back further. He knows that Yaku will be pissed about it later, but for now he needs to de-escalate. He turns his body to Iwaizumi, pocketing his screwdriver and smiling easily. “You must be Iwaizumi. I’m Kuroo, I joined Karasuno after you, well....” Kuroo purposefully ends his introduction on that note to let Iwaizumi know that he holds information over him. 

He deliberately looks over his shoulder at the four shocked Karasuno citizens before looking Iwaizumi in the eyes. “It seems like we might have some things to talk about. Care to join us for a sit-down?” 

“Actually, we need to-” Iwaizumi starts, and Hinata takes that moment to push forward and look at Iwaizumi with his puppy eyes. 

“Please, Iwaizumi-senpai. I missed you. And we deserve answers.” 

Kuroo almost laughs. Perfect timing, kid.

Iwaizumi looks visibly conflicted, but his pull towards Hinata and the others obviously wins out. “Sparky, Mad Dog,” he barks, “check to make sure no one else came in while we were talking. Guard the doors from outside, please.” Behind them, two members of the group peel off to check the upstairs and entryways. “Everyone else, move out. We have a list of supplies to look for. I need you all to grant me this.” The rest of his group nods, and everyone except the light-haired and dark-haired man leaves. “QK, Flower Kid.” 

The light-haired one shakes his head. “You’re not getting rid of us.” 

Iwaizumi looks like he’s going to argue before he nods tiredly, sighing. Then he looks back towards their group. “Our fire is this way, if you’d like.” He shoots another look at Hinata before nodding to Kuroo, then turning and leading them to another part of the main floor. 

Kuroo looks at Kenma, whose eyes are trained on Iwaizumi’s back. When he notices Kuroo’s eyes on him he just shrugs. Neither of them know what to expect, but Kuroo is sure it’s going to be interesting, to say the least. 

One thing he does know is that if this is the same bandit troupe that they thought killed Iwaizumi, then they likely have information on nearby communities, and maybe something on Akaashi. This is the closest thing they’ve had to a lead in a long time, so he’s going to follow it until it grows cold. 

They sit down, and Kuroo realizes that Bokuto still hasn’t said anything. It’s not unusual for him to sit back when he realizes that Kuroo has control of a situation, but Kuroo squeezes his friend’s shoulder to check on him, just in case. As he hopes, Bokuto gives him a smile, albeit an empty one, and turns back to the fire. 

Bokuto’s on his left and Kenma’s on his right, just as he likes it, and Iwaizumi and his posse sit on the other side of the firepit. Hinata is next to Bokuto, with Lev, Tora, and Yaku huddled as close to Hinata as they can get. Their backs are ramrod straight, hackles raised as high as they can get.

“Why are you all this far out? Is Karasuno okay?” Iwaizumi asks. The factory is noticeably quiet, everyone clearing out just as they were asked to. Iwaizumi is the obvious leader of the troupe and Kuroo wonders how the rest of the group dynamic works. There isn’t an obvious second in command, though the light-haired guy and dark-haired man flank their leader, pressed almost flush to him on each side. Their hands never leave their weapons. 

Kuroo wonders idly at the meaning of their facepaint. The dark-haired one has his eyes painted black, almost like some kind of dramatic and intimidating makeup look, while the light-haired one has a flower doodled on his forehead. It’s almost as if a child had gotten a hold of some craft paints while he slept, the furthest thing from intimidating one can get.

“Actually it’s not,” Lev fidgets. “It’s why we left.”

Iwaizumi looks stricken. “What has he done?”

Yaku glares at him. “What hasn’t he done? He’s gone off the deep end ever since you’ve ‘died.’” He adds air quotes. “Why the actual fuck did you leave us with him?” 

Iwaizumi looks at a loss for words. “I thought….” He swallows, composes himself, and his voice comes out stronger. “I knew he was struggling for power for Karasuno, trying to start that stupid war with Shiratorizawa. He was so driven. He stopped listening to me, and I was so afraid of a war, so afraid of watching him burn everything we had helped build to the ground.” Iwaizumi looks tired when he makes eye contact with them all. 

“It was selfish. I know. But I couldn’t sit there and watch what he had become. Nothing I said or did changed his mind. So I decided to leave. I hoped that the shock of me being dead would make him realize that what he was doing was twisted and wrong.”

“Selfish?! So you left the rest of us there to deal with the fallout, knowing full well that we couldn’t? Fucking selfish doesn’t even begin to --” Lev pulls Yaku into his chest, whispering something in his ear that momentarily causes him to deflate and look away from Iwaizumi.

“He’s worse,” Tora scratches his cheek self-consciously as he adds his two cents. “He’s much worse without you there.”

“We’ve heard a little about Karasuno from the other communities, but what happened after I left?” 

Hinata twists his fingers roughly, not making eye contact. “Oikawa put everything into finding that bandits that killed you,” he says quietly. “He’s obsessed. It’s tearing Karasuno apart.”

“He’s also been blackmailing other Karasuno members into supporting him and his efforts,” Kuroo adds, refusing to sugarcoat it for him. “We think he might have been involved in the disappearance of our friend, who we’re out here looking for. According to someone he was blackmailing, he’s been using contacts from outside of Karasuno as a way to enforce his threats.”

“Blackmailing?” Iwaizumi frowns, leaning forward and furrowing his eyebrows. 

“He has control over most everything in Karasuno,” Lev says. His arms are still firmly wrapped around Yaku, and he gives the shorter man a look that Kuroo can’t decipher, but is extremely interested in finding the meaning of. “It’s why we left. It’s gotten really bad, Iwaizumi. Without you, there’s no one to rein him in.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, as if he can’t believe it. Or he’s trying to rid his brain of the things they’re telling him. “I was losing him long before I left. I’m not sure there’s much I could have done.”

“Well you ‘dying’ threw him straight off the deep end!” Yaku’s voice is getting louder again, and Iwaizumi’s companions are stiffening. “Karasuno is falling apart and there’s no one to keep it together with Oikawa going absolutely insane. He’s threatening the people we love, making sketchy deals with rogue groups, conniving in his stupid office! Suga’s been doing what he can, but he doesn’t have as much power. And you know how helpful Ukai and Takeda are,” Yaku rolls his eyes. “We thought you were dead, and instead you’re just here gallivanting with your new group?”

Iwaizumi bristles. “Do you think I wanted to leave?” His voice is considerably louder. Not quite a yell, but definitely impassioned. “I...Oi-Oikawa,” he trips over the name, “I love him. And watching him kill himself over trying to keep Karasuno safe…I know I’m a coward. I _know_ I ran. I left the love of my life because if I had stayed, I would have fallen with him. We all would have! And yeah, maybe he’s ripping Karasuno apart, but at least it can put itself back together. Shiratorizawa wouldn’t have granted Karasuno that chance if he really had started a war. Me leaving was probably the only reason Karasuno is still standing.” 

Hinata and Lev look shocked, Tora looks sad, and Yaku’s lip curls in disgust. “Are you looking for a thank you?” He spits the words, standing. “You took that choice away from us, so I guess we’ll never know.” 

Yaku storms out of the building. Lev glances at Iwaizumi. “I have missed you, Iwaizumi-san,” he says heavily. Kuroo isn’t used to the tired look on his usually-smiling face. Then he stands and follows Yaku out.

Tora stands too, shooting Iwaizumi a loaded look. Kuroo can’t quite determine the emotion behind it, but before he can try to decipher it Tora is out the door too.

Iwaizumi just shakes his head. 

“You’ve known him for a while, right?” Kenma speaks for the first time, and Kuroo looks at him quickly before turning his gaze back on Iwaizumi. “Someone said that you and Oikawa were childhood friends.” 

Iwaizumi nods. “We’ve known each other for decades.” 

Kenma regards him carefully. His voice is steady and lacks inflection. “Then how can we stop him?” 

“What?” Iwaizumi looks stricken again.

“Oikawa’s current spiral likely will not bode well for him or the rest of Karasuno; however, he currently has too much power for any of us to stop him by acting alone. How can we keep him from spiralling further?” As usual, there’s no judgement in Kenma’s words, just practicality and fact. 

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, apparently in thought. “I’m not sure. Ever since we were kids, he’s had...trouble. Sometimes his brain just doesn’t process things the same way that the other kids’ brains did, you know? And he needs help discerning between right and wrong or too much and not enough. If someone explained to him, like, without judgement or bias, what he was doing and why it’s harmful, he might be able to see sense.” He rubs his face with his palm. “But I don’t know.”

Kenma nods, but Kuroo can see the cogs turning in his boyfriend’s head. “What are you thinking?” He murmurs, but Kenma just shakes his head. 

“Nothing yet.” 

Kuroo hums and turns back to Iwaizumi. “We’re looking for someone. How much do you and your group get around?”

Now that they’re talking business and not pleasure, Iwaizumi’s face is impassive again. “Enough. If it’s information you’re looking for, we might have it. Are they in a community?”

Kuroo tries to keep the competitive smile from his face. He loves negotiations. This is what he’s good at. “We don’t know. If he was, would you know about it?” 

Iwaizumi thinks for a moment. “Maybe. But most of the communities have high turnover. Lots of people coming and going.” 

“If I gave you a description, would you keep an ear on the ground for us? We can come up with an agreement so that you feel properly compensated.” 

Kuroo likes the look in Iwaizumi’s eyes. “I think we might be able to do that. What should we be looking out for?” 

Kuroo grins. “Akaashi Keiji, early twenties. Dark hair, blue/grey eyes, taller than you, shorter than me.”

“We’re in Japan, I think you just described 80% of the remaining male population.” Iwaizumi says back, enjoying their back-and-forth as much as Kuroo. 

“Carries around a baseball bat,” Kuroo counters.

“30% of the population.”

“Mostly deaf, experiences spells of vertigo.”

Iwaizumi blinks, taken aback. Then the corner of his mouth curls up. “0.001%. We can work with that. We’ll keep an eye out. If we run into you again, we’ll let you know.” 

“Appreciate it,” Kuroo leans back, their deal made. 

Iwaizumi looks at the doorway that Lev and Yaku disappeared through. “Do you think they’ll be back?” 

Kuroo glances at it before turning back to Iwaizumi. He’s all too familiar with the aftermath of a storm. “No. Sorry.” 

Iwaizumi sighs, then stands, indicating to his friends to do the same. “I really am sorry, Hinata.” 

“So that’s it?” Hinata asks. “You’re just going to leave our friends at the mercy of Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi flinches. “He’s just a man, Hinata.” 

Hinata’s eyes are blazing, different from when he fights zombies. He’s righteous, his stance almost hostile. “I thought you were different. I thought you were a good person. But you’re right. You are a coward.” And for the first time since Kuroo’s known him, Hinata walks out, away from a fight.

Iwaizumi’s expression is unreadable as he swallows thickly and nods to himself, eyes trained on the ground. He takes a breath and makes eye contact with Kuroo again. “If you go back to Karasuno, keep an eye on him for me, will you?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but Iwaizumi seems to take that as its own response. Kuroo watches Iwaizumi and his two lackeys stand and retreat, something heavy in his chest. 

He knows what it’s like to love someone who hurts you. 

“Kuro,” Kenma tugs gently at his sleeve. “I’m sure Yaku’s found another shelter by now, even if it’s only out of spite. Let’s go.” 

Kuroo nods, mustering up a smile even though he’s still deeply unsettled by their conversation with the former behind-the-scenes leader of Karasuno. 

He feels a hand clamp down on his arm and he turns to see Bokuto giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” He’s still much too quiet, but his smile is genuine. 

Kuroo brings his hand up to Bokuto’s, squeezing it firmly before smiling back. “We’ll find him.”

“I know.” He watches Bokuto walk on ahead and feels sick to his stomach. Why does it feel like he’s making more promises than he can keep?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for doing the whole, bring-a-dead-character-back-to-life zombie media trope. I wasn’t going to, but Iwaizumi still has a lot of story left to be told. It’s important that he’s here to see it through. 
> 
> Do my Seijo chapters always end up way longer than the others? Yes. Will I be taking questions at this time? No, please move along. Kuroo v. Iwaizumi is my new favorite match-up. They would act like CEOs and it would be so fucking infuriating I love it. 
> 
> Poor Oikawa. He’s...not in a good place.
> 
> Fun facts!  
> \- I usually feel excitement when first posting a fic and relief upon ending one, but this time it’s reversed. 
> 
> \- A quote that I based Oikawa’s character on: “I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief” - C.S. Lewis
> 
> \- My documents are color-coded. I use a pink for foreshadowing, green for themes that will show up again, blue for parallels, etc. etc. I also have Kuroo and Bokuto coded differently (red and yellow) due to the fact that their narratives synch up to the same plot line. The same can’t be said for Suga and Oikawa, who are in the same location but on very different lines.


	4. i felt the earth beneath my feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet??? And I feel like the least happens???? Why is world-building such a bitch? Also I _guess_ that this is a pretty pivotal chapter, so the higher word count sorta makes sense.
> 
> Anyways, I had a great time writing this one, I hope you all enjoy it too! 
> 
> cw for a panic attack, only one paragraph long. Un-beta'd!

* * *

[Suga](https://youtu.be/3MQxc9Ipijg)

“Suga-san!” Suga whips around to see Yachi running towards him, Shimizu on her tail. 

He wants to cry. Daichi just got released from Yachi’s watchful eye and they’re taking their first walk around the compound in months, Daichi leaning heavily on him but playing with his hair gently in a way that just makes Suga want to lose himself in Daichi’s affections….

“What is it?” He turns tiredly to greet Yachi and Shimizu. Daichi chuckles against his shoulder, probably sensing his distress and _thriving off of it,_ the bastard. 

“Nishinoya and Narita are fighting,” Yachi says breathlessly, and Suga blinks at her.

“Noya and... _Narita?”_

Yachi nods, the distress evident in her face. Whatever the fuck is happening, no one else seems to know how to deal with it either. 

“What are they fighting about?” Yachi just shakes her head, either because she doesn’t know or doesn’t feel like she can adequately explain it. 

Suga sighs and looks at Daichi. “Want to see what the fuss is about?” 

Daichi - the shit he is - grins. “Is that even a question?” Suga sighs again. He supposes not: Daichi’s been stuck in the infirmary for a few months, so this is probably the most interesting thing to happen to him in a while.

They all start walking as quickly as they can, Suga and Daichi following slightly behind the two women. "Who else is there?” Suga asks.

“Kinsohita, of course, and then Tanaka, Asahi, Yamaguchi, and a few others,” Shimizu answers. 

“And Tanaka’s staying out of it?” Suga asks incredulously. Color him shocked, usually Tanaka has some opinion or another. But then again, the loud man also has a tendency to let other people fight their own fights as long as it’s fair. So that means that he thinks that this disagreement between Noya and Narita is justified on both sides. Which...dammit. Suga was hoping that this would be easy to solve. 

They turn the corner of the bathhouses to see Noya, Narita, and Kinoshita standing in the middle of a small crowd of ten or so Karasuno residents, all in various states of interest and concern. Suga can relate: while Noya may not be the most peaceful of their members, Narita has never had a problem with anyone before. 

Suga drags Daichi as far as the outer rim of the crowd before walking up towards Noya and Narita, watching the fight with an odd fascination. 

“We’re just talking in circles at this point,” Kinoshita is translating for Narita, his voice a lot less emphatic than Narita’s hand gestures, his normally fluid sign language choppy and big, which Suga knows means that he’s being loud. Narita, usually content to melt in the background, wants to be heard today. 

“Sending my people out is reckless!” Noya yells, getting nearer to Narita’s face. Suga sees Kinoshita translating Noya’s words for Narita just in case he misses anything. 

“Not when it’s what needs to be done for the good of Karasuno,” Narita emphasizes his words with a large hand flourish, throwing them palm-up towards the ground. 

“And how would you know what’s good for Karasuno?” 

“I obviously know more than you, if you think that we can just ignore the store of grain that Ennoshita’s group found.” 

Noya bristles at the jab at his pride. “All you do is leave! I’m the one who has to stay back and defend this place! If I have less people to do that, then we might be attacked!” 

Narita rises to the challenge, stepping up closer to Noya and signing violently in his face. Kinoshita cranes his neck to see what his friend is signing. “And if we die of starvation, there won’t be anything left to defend!” Their height difference is magnified with their closeness. Suga wants to step in, but still isn’t sure if it’s his place.

“Okay wait,” Tanaka says, finally stepping in. Before, he was just standing behind Noya with Asahi, watching the fight quietly. “I’m not saying that one idea is better than another, but we definitely aren’t starving soon.” 

Narita doesn’t back down. “There’s less and less to scavenge every day. At some point, we’ll be out of canned goods to find. With the grain, we can farm it or make it into more food. We can trade it for other supplies. It’s a momentary risk. The scavengers won’t need your people for long, just a few days so we can get all of the grain out.” 

“A few days could mean the difference between being able to defend Karasuno from an attack or not. Do you really want to jeopardize that?” 

“We don’t need everyone. We just need a few more people to help with the grain gathering so that we can get it done as quickly as possible.”

Noya throws his hands up in frustration. “Why does it have to be done quickly!? Can’t you just get the grain over a longer span of time?” 

Narita huffs in exasperation, his hands stalling as he looks at Noya with just as much frustration in his gaze. “We have a limited number of people too, and we still need to continue our regular scavenging so that we can keep up with the quota that keeps Karasuno alive. If we do it quickly, then we can focus our efforts back on our normal scavenging duties.” 

“Well then get your people from somewhere else!” Noya yells, suddenly aggressive again.

“You’re impossible to speak civilly with!” Narita signs shortly. 

“You’re impossible to --” Noya starts, but Suga decides he should step in before the murder in Narita’s eyes actually leads to homicide.

“How about we take a moment?” Suga quickly makes his way between Narita and Noya, hands in the air placatingly. “I think you both bring up good points. But maybe we can find it in ourselves to try and figure this out without getting too heated?” 

Noya mutters something under his breath, crossing his arms and deliberately turning his head away from Narita. Narita does the same, except he’s careful to look away from Kinoshita too, effectively cutting himself off from the conversation. Suga sighs. Who knew they could be this stubborn?

Suga looks out at the circle to Tanaka, who looks at him just as helplessly, and then to Daichi, who just shrugs with a playful smirk on his face that asks, _“What are you going to do now, Mr. Leader?”_ Suga refrains from rolling his eyes. He regrets telling Daichi about Yamaguchi's insistence at Suga becoming the main form of leadership at Karasuno. Why the freckled man thinks he'd be good for the job, he might never understand.

"Kinoshita?" Suga looks at the light-haired man, begging for help silently. Kinoshita looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but he purses his lips and walks over to where Narita is looking, signing something quickly to him. Narita glares a bit, but responds with his own short motions. He reluctantly turns to look at Suga. 

"Okay, great!" Suga claps his hands together nervously, loud enough to make a few bystanders jump. "So from my understanding, Narita's scavenging group found a large store of grain and now wants to retrieve it, but doesn't have the human effort to retrieve it all while continuing to scavenge. So Narita came to Nishinoya about getting some assistance from wall workers, is that correct?" 

"Yes, our defenders are some of the strongest people in our community. We'd be able to get all of the grain safely back here within days with their help," Narita signs. Kinoshita looks uneasily at Noya as if waiting for his protest. Predictably, it comes.

"But we can't afford that many people!" Noya huffs, turning back around to look at them all. He glances at Suga. "You know the importance of keeping a strong wall." 

Suga nods. "I do. But that grain would be invaluable if we can get our hands on it quickly and efficiently. How about this:" he turns to Narita, "what if you go to Saeko and ask her if she can craft something to make transporting large amounts of grain possible, like a large cart or wheelbarrow? Then Noya," he turns to the shorter man, "can ask if there are any volunteers to help with grain gathering when they're not on-shift on the wall. We also have other divisions of labor that might have individuals willing to help.

"I'll see if anyone else from our other divisions will be willing to help too. Does that seem fair?" Suga looks between the two men pointedly. They both nod, still shooting glares at the other. Suga knows that they'll work it out between themselves once they cool down. "Wonderful! Thanks, guys." 

With that, the crowd disperses. Yachi thanks him before quickly scurrying off, looking relieved that the disagreement is over. 

"Nice going, Mr. I'm-not-a-leader," Daichi teases as he slowly makes his way over to Suga. Suga easily takes some of Daichi's weight, smiling and rolling his eyes. 

"I do what I can," he teases, breathing an exaggerated sigh of relief. 

"Impressive, Suga-san. I thought they were going to keep going at it for another twenty minutes, at least," Ennoshita says as he walks up to them, Tanaka in tow. The only others still hanging around are Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, both of whom are standing a careful distance away, almost keeping watch. 

"I don't even know if my solution will work." 

Ennoshita shrugs, something alight in his sleepy eyes. "But you made an effort. And you found a solution." He sighs. "Look. We have a proposition." 

Suga watches him carefully, and Daichi squeezes his shoulder gently, letting him know that he's there. 

"We can't keep livin' like this, Suga-san," Tanaka says, gripping Ennoshita's wrist tightly. "We gotta get Oikawa off his throne. He ain't stable." 

Suga purses his lips. He's known about Oikawa's questionable mental state for a while, but he hadn't known that others had also caught on too. Though, with how close Ennoshita is to Oikawa's operations, he can see why he might be intimately aware of it. "What do you mean?" He asks instead.

"He's getting more paranoid." Ennoshita looks grim. "He's been sending us out to scope the nearby communities almost every night. We meet up with Kita's group almost every other day to get coded messages. He's neglecting the things that need done around here on the wall, with the agriculture, and regarding scavenging trips. He's recruited more community members than ever before into his delusions." 

"We're not the only ones who're concerned," Tanaka looks just as serious as Ennoshita. "There's a whole lotta us." 

"So what's your proposition?" Daichi asks.

"A Town Hall," Ennoshita says with a pointed look at Suga. He blinks, surprised. It's been a long time since they've had one of those outside of the regularly scheduled ones. Maybe not since Ukai Ikkei had died. "We want to expose Oikawa's shortcomings and lobby for your rise to leadership."

Suga blinks at him. “You what?” 

"We need to get Oikawa out of power. Once everyone knows what's going on, or at least a part of it, they'll have no reason to support him anymore."

"What about his outside contacts?" Daichi asks, as if Ennoshita didn’t just say that he thinks that Suga should lead Karasuno. Suga. Leading. Karasuno. _What?_

"I've been paying attention over the past few months, and his most powerful one is Kita. If we call the town meeting in a few days, when Kita and his group from Inarizaki are here, then they'll be made aware of Oikawa’s shortcomings. I don't know if they'll fully pull their support, but there might be some uneasiness at least. That’s all we need.”

Suga holds out a hand. “Wait. Why me? What makes you think that I’d be a good leader instead of Oikawa?” 

“No offense, but anyone would be better than Oikawa. But you’re also the best choice, Suga-san,” Ennoshita says.

Tanaka nods. “I’ve been askin’ around, and a lot of people respect you! And you’re pretty rational and get along with everyone. Plus, didja see what you just did there with Narita and Noya? I ain’t ever seen a fight with Noya end that smooth before. And they only listened to you because they respect you.”

“What did I say?” Daichi’s voice vibrates in his ear as he murmurs. “You’re quite the leader for someone who’s...well, not a leader, don’t you think?” 

“There has to be someone else,” Suga says lightly, trying not to sound too desperate. “Ukai? Takeda?” 

Ennoshita gives him a deadpan look. “They’re the drunk uncles of this community at best. They provide comfort and an inkling of good advice once in a blue moon, but they can’t be trusted to carve the turkey.” Suga doesn’t think that Ennoshita is giving Ukai and Takeda the full credit they deserve, but he gets what he means.

“Saeko? Shimizu? You guys?” Suga is quickly running low on capable members, and he knows he's just grasping now. 

Ennoshita does too, based on the look he gives him.

“Look. We can’t do this without having someone as the face of the new leadership. And you’re universally liked and you make rational decisions. That’s the bare minimum to beat Oikawa. Please, Suga-san.”

Tanaka gives him the most sincere look Suga’s ever seen. “We wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need you, Suga-san.”

Suga raises his eyes to see if a higher power - any higher power - will object. None do.

_Fuuuuuck._

Daichi grins and speaks before he can, sensing his assent. “So how do we call a Town Hall?”

* * *

[Kunimi](https://youtu.be/LUfWNWhEfYU)

Kunimi shoots another concerned look at Makki. He’s hanging off of Mattsun, letting his friend take the brunt of his weight. They stop to let Makki hack his lungs up, wet and rattling. Mattsun holds him up completely, one arm curled around his waist, the other braced on his chest so he doesn’t topple forward onto the snow-dusted ground. Once he’s done, Makki spits out a discolored glob of _something_ into the frosted grass before leaning heavily back onto Mattsun. 

“I’m fine,” he rasps, voice rough from his coughing. “Let’s keep going.” 

“Hiro,” is Mattsun’s near inaudible protest, but Makki shakes his head to indicate that he can’t fight him on this, but that he’s said what he wanted to say. Those two often communicate with gestures and looks rather than words, and it looks like it’s killing Mattsun not to say anything more.

Apparently, Mattsun and Makki are the only two of their ragtag group who knew each other before the apocalypse. They were friends in high school and roommates in college, and were well-acquainted with the other’s mannerisms. Kunimi wonders how Makki, insane as he is now, was before the apocalypse. He wonders if Mattsun cares about the difference. 

Not far in front of them is Yahaba, also struggling, but he shrugs off any help the rest of them keep trying to offer. His breaths are coming faster than normal and sweat permeates his brow. Kyoutani tentatively reaches for the sick man, and Yahaba almost gets a faceful of road as he sways dangerously, trying to fend off the other man’s concern with one hand while coughing into the other. Kyoutani retracts his hand, looking like the gesture hurts him before his default glare sets back in. Kunimi isn’t fooled.

He watches with half-amusement, half-concern as Watari forces Kyoutani’s jacket over Yahaba’s shoulders, holding it in place for him until he can grab it himself. The slightly oversized coat just makes him look more pathetic. 

There’s a lone zombie shuffling near their group, slowed by the cold, and Kyoutani peels off to take care of it. Kunimi tries to block out Kyoutani’s cries of frustration as he swings his axe wildly at the undead citizen. He averts his eyes when the other man continues to kick the shit out of the zombie long after it stops twitching. 

“Boss-” Kindaichi starts, but abruptly stops. One look at Boss, and they all know he’s thinking the same thing. 

“We have to find a place for tonight. Soon.” Boss addresses all of them, but based on their glazed stares, Makki and Yahaba don’t hear it. With how fast Yahaba’s deteriorating and the way Makki can’t even stand on his own, they stand a better chance being curled up by a warm fire than trying to make it to their next destination. A better chance of what...well, Kunimi doesn’t want to think about it. 

“I can keep going,” Makki is almost wheezing now from the effort of walking and talking at the same time. It's unclear whether he's responding to Boss's command or trying to convince himself. 

“No you can’t. Not much longer,” Mattsun tells his best friend firmly. Kunimi watches how Mattsun tightens his grip on his friend, concern reflecting deeply in his eyes. Mattsun’s face is usually impassive, almost apathetic to everything he sees. Today, it’s terrified. When Makki had started coughing, they thought nothing of it. Within days, he was feverish and barely able to eat. Right now, he looks near-dead. With no modern medicine on hand or hospitals to go to, Mattsun has every right to be worried. 

“How far out from a compound are we?” Boss asks Watari. 

“Less than a day from Karasuno. A little further from Shiratorizawa,” the short man replies.

“We’ll head for Shiratorizawa in the morning, then,” Boss says.

“But Boss, Karasuno is-”

“Karasuno doesn’t have a hospital. We’re going to Shiratorizawa, and that’s final.” 

They all walk in a stunned silence. Boss is never so quick to cut them off. He usually listens and weighs their options before picking the best one. Not this time, apparently. None of them object, since he has a good point, but they’re all a bit shocked at the outburst. 

“Kindaichi, Kyoutani. Scout that building over there,” Boss points to a convenience store. They nod and run ahead. It would be a good place to set up camp for the night: small, so they could warm up their friends in the back office, but big enough so the rest of them can still spread out. Easy to defend because of its size, and also easy to clear out if there’s any unwelcome guests. “Kunimi, catch Yahaba.” Boss predicts Yahaba’s collapse before it happens, and Kunimi rushes to step forward and support their resident Bomb Boy before he crumples to the ground.

“He’s burning up, Boss,” Kunimi notes, letting Yahaba hang off of him as they keep up pace with the rest of their group. It isn’t hard: they’re moving much slower than usual so that no one gets left behind. Yahaba’s skin is so warm that Kunimi can feel it through both of their thick coats, making him crinkle his eyes in concern. It’s moments like this when it’s a problem that they don’t have anyone who specializes in medical knowledge in their group. Cuts and bruises, they can handle. But illnesses? Those things are deadly, especially when you can’t treat them. 

Boss’s eyebrows are drawn together in deep consternation. He’s been different, ever since they encountered that other group with the people who called him Iwaizumi. It isn’t a bad different, but he’s a little more reserved, stuck in his head most of the time. Kunimi wishes that he had been in the room when Boss talked to the other members, but he wasn’t invited, and he wouldn’t dare eavesdrop on something that seemed so important. He had more respect for Boss than that. But to be able to offer some sort of comfort or camaraderie would be nice.

Makki and Mattsun are tight-lipped about the whole thing, but Kunimi often catches them sending Boss more concerned looks than normal. Boss pretends not to see. Fortunately for Boss, Makki and Yahaba’s illness has taken the heat of everyone’s gaze from him, and Kunimi can see how much he hunches over from the weight of the emotions left over from his conversation as Iwaizumi. 

Kunimi grunts and lifts their Bomb Boy a bit higher, still basically dragging him as they continue walking. Yahaba isn’t even protesting anymore, just shuffling his feet to try and keep up. Kindaichi is jogging back. “The store is all clear. Should we set up there?” 

Boss doesn’t even hesitate. “Barricade it so we can stay there for a few hours. And start a fire pit, if you can. We’ll be there soon.” 

By the time the rest of them make it to the convenience store and drag Makki and Yahaba to the back room, a small fire is blazing and the metal shelves are waiting to be dragged in front of the door to barricade them in. While Kindaichi and Watari barricade the door, Kunimi digs through Makki’s pack for a water bottle. He finds one and holds it to Yahaba’s lips, encouraging him to drink. He doesn’t know much about caring for sick people, but he does know that staying hydrated is important. Yahaba’s eyes are glazed like Makki’s, unfocused from their rising fevers.

“How are you doing, Bomb Boy?” Kunimi asks, trying to tease a smile from Yahaba’s lips. 

“I think you should check on Makki,” Yahaba smiles weakly, but turns his concern to the other man. “He doesn’t look good.” 

As if on cue, Makki coughs strongly, attempting to clear his lungs. When he tries to suck in a breath after his fit he fails, and he gasps desperately for air. Mattsun is panicking, thumping his friend on his back as hard as he can. “Come on, Makki. Cough it up.” Mattsun presses a sock to Makki’s mouth, letting the other man cough into it as violently as he needs to. Kunimi, on the other hand, can see what this is probably leading to, and he rushes to the desk of the office so that he can pull out one of the drawers from it. He places it next to Makki, who grabs the drawer and hurls into it, spitting up both his stomach contents and the mucus that he’s been trying to cough up. 

He gasps for air between coughs and heaves, and Mattsun holds him up from falling into his own sick with a look of pure terror on his face. 

“Alright, that’s it,” Boss says from the office doorway behind them. When Kunimi turns to look, he has a grim but determined look on his face. “I’m going to Shiratorizawa tonight. Head out in the morning if Makki and Yahaba are in good enough health, but if not just wait here for me. If you take these streets,” he starts writing something on a paper that’s on the desk, “then we should run into each other. It shouldn’t take me longer than a day and a half to come back with the antibiotics.” 

“You don’t even know if antibiotics will work,” Kunimi points out quietly. 

“It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?” Boss sets his jaw. “Besides, they have pneumonia, I think, and it seems like it’s bacterial based on the amount of sputum.” 

“How do you know that?” Kyoutani asks, looking both frustrated and confused. He gets upset even more easily these days, and his eyes haven’t left Yahaba since they got there. 

“I was a physical therapy student for a short amount of time. We learned about some of this stuff,” Boss says, grabbing his pack and unloading a few weapons to lighten it. “No more questions. I’ll be back soon. Try to keep their fevers down, and give them lots of water. Otherwise they might keep choking on their mucus,” he looks worriedly towards Makki, who is lying on Mattsun’s lap with his eyes closed. How Mattsun managed to make the other man fit on his lap, Kunimi doesn’t know. Mattsun is methodically working his fingers through Makki’s hair, and he presses a gentle kiss to Makki’s forehead. The smudged black paint lingers on Mattsun’s lips. “They need lots of sleep, too.”

“Are you sure?” Kunimi asks. “One of us can go with you.” 

Boss shakes his head. “You’ll only slow me down. Keep them alive, okay?” Boss gives Makki and Yahaba one last look, one that makes Kunimi feel uncomfortable. He’s looking at them as if it’ll be the last time. Then he abruptly turns away and pushes through all of the barricading that Kindaichi and Watari did, leaving the rest of them with the marginally harder task of keeping their friends alive. 

“I didn’t know Boss was a nurse,” Kindaichi comments. “Or, physical therapist or whatever.”

“He could be the pope for all I care. As long as he hurries back,” Watari gnaws on his thumbnail with renewed vigor.

“I’m sure he’ll be back,” Kunimi says confidently. Quietly, he considers the look of goodbye that Boss gave their two fading members, but shakes the thought away. Boss will be back. He chances a glance at Makki and Yahaba. “In the meantime, I’m going to go car searching. Maybe we can beat Boss to Shiratorizawa. Gods know he doesn’t have much in terms of trading.”

* * *

[Akaashi](https://youtu.be/MOSU_Pw7vO4)

Keiji collapses in his desk chair after a long morning of helping Fukunaga and Komi with their samples. He has no clue how the progress on the vaccine is going, but everyone looked a little discouraged today. 

“Thank you for your hard work,” Sarukui had clapped him on the back.

“Yeah, it’s really nice having another pair of hands around here!” Shibayama had grinned tiredly at him.

“Even if they don’t know how to properly titrate,” Shirabu had mumbled, which was high praise coming from him. But even though his relationship with the scientists continues to improve, Keiji still isn’t sure exactly how to bad mouth the farmers to them. They seem to have a problem with the farmers as a whole rather than individuals, which makes it harder to bring them up in conversation like he can when he’s speaking with the farmers.

He’ll figure it out, though. It’s only a matter of time, and then he’ll be able to really implement his plan of pitting the two groups against each other even more. 

He feels the white-hot gaze of someone on him, and he looks up to see Bokuto in the mirror. His eyes are reflected back into Keiji’s, disapproving. 

“I have to do this. To get back to you!” Keiji protests softly to his own reflection. “Don’t you want this?” 

His stomach churns when he imagines Bokuto’s voice. _Not like this._

He squeezes his eyes shut. Doesn’t Bokuto understand that he’ll do anything? _Anything_ to get back to him. He promised. And nothing is safe here, not without Bokuto here. 

Keiji wants to laugh at himself. When did he get so weak? When did he need the company of someone else in order to be okay? Well, Bokuto isn’t just someone, he supposes. Bokuto is everything. His comfort. His safety. How is he supposed to get back to him without tearing Shiratorizawa to shreds?

He wonders if the real Bokuto would be as disappointed in him as the one in his head is. He opens his eyes again, and Bokuto’s eyes are gone. His presence lingers, though. 

“I have to do this,” he whispers. It feels like an excuse, even to himself.

There’s a soft knock at his door that makes him jump as he breaks eye contact with himself in the mirror. “Akaashi-san?” A soft voice says.

Keiji stands and makes his way to the door, flattening his hair before opening it. There’s a woman standing there. He’s seen her around, mostly because she’s impossible to miss: she’s taller than most of the men in the compound, her hair shorn at her jawline and her eyes big and innocent. She’s a hell of a shot with projectiles, though. He’s seen her practice. 

“Hello,” he says, blinking at her in surprise. 

“Hello. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“No, I wasn’t doing anything.” _Only imagining that Bokuto was here._

“Oh, good.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It immediately falls back in front of her face. “My name is Kanoka Amanai. I was wondering if you had a moment to speak with me?” 

He can’t imagine what she might want to speak with him about. Hopefully she doesn’t see through him. Keiji glances back at his room before stepping out of it and shutting the door behind him. He can only see Bokuto in there, the place where all Keiji can think about is him and only him. “Shall we take a walk?” 

He follows her out of the hospital. Despite leaving his room, Bokuto’s presence is still there, right behind his shoulder, watching. He can feel his eyes boring into the back of his head, pleading with him to do what’s right. Whatever that might be, Keiji isn’t sure.

It’s only after they get out of the hospital that Kanoka speaks. “Are you enjoying your time here at Shiratorizawa?” She asks pleasantly. 

“Yes. I enjoy the company here.” 

She laughs at that, though it’s more out of relief than humor. “Good. That’s good. I was hoping you’d say that.” 

He looks at her curiously. “Not to be rude, but why did you ask me here, Kanoka-san?” 

She glances at him quickly before looking back at the path ahead of them. They’re rounding the mess hall and continuing past the crop fields. “I’m worried, Akaashi-san. A few of us are. We think that the conflict between the scientists and the farmers is only going to continue to escalate.” 

“I did notice that they had some...problems,” Keiji says carefully. Understatement. 

“That’s putting it lightly, Akaashi-san.” Kanoka laughs, this time without any humor. “Their spat might be the end of Shiratorizawa, if it can’t be resolved.” Keiji startles at that. Does she actually know his plan? There’s no way that she could know that he’s planning on exploiting that very chink in their armor in order to escape...could she?

“It can’t be that bad, right? I mean, the worst thing that can happen is that they never get along.” Keiji glances at Kanoka, trying to gauge her reaction.

She bites her bottom lip. “I think it might be worse than that. The animosity is really bad, Akaashi-san.” She looks straight into his eyes. “It’s been building for a while. Do you know what happens when animals that actively oppose each other are put in the same enclosure without any supervision?”

Keiji’s suddenly taken back to a trip to the zoo his mother had taken him and his older brother on, where they watched as two employees had tried to rip fighting dingos apart while trying not to get mauled themselves. 

Kanoka isn’t accusing him. She’s warning him.

“They kill each other,” he says numbly. 

Kanoka finally lets off her bottom lip, running her hand through her hair instead as she nods. “Their infighting will cause the destruction of Shiratorizawa. Eventually, one of them is going to get too angry with the other, and those of us who are neutral will be forced to take sides. Someone will accuse another of monopolizing resources, another will commit a direct act of violence against one. And we’ll fall apart. I think the violence could extend past us, over to other communities. I've seen it happen before.” She closes her eyes briefly. “I love this place, Akaashi-san. It’s the safest I’ve felt since everything started. The people here are wonderful people to know, and I have a lot of respect for Ushijima-san. He’s just not equipped to deal with all of this.”

“And you think I am?” Keiji asks. He’s just been handed the key to ripping Shiratorizawa apart, and this girl thinks that he should be the one to save it instead. 

She shrugs. “I’m not sure, I don’t know you well. But I do know that you’ve managed to become close with both opposing groups. They both trust you. If anyone can bring them together, I have faith that it will be you, Akaashi-san.”

Keiji feels a little sick. Behind him, Bokuto is disappointed in his resolve to tear apart the carefully held together dynamic of Shiratorizawa. But he holds onto it, he grasps it as closely and as strongly as he can. Without this resolve, he has nothing. No reason to leave, no reason to find Bokuto - the real Bokuto, not the memory of him that clings to Keiji’s shadow - again. 

He forces himself to look back at her. “I’ll do my best.” 

Her face contorts into something soft and full of gratitude. He has to look away. “That’s all I ask. Thank you, Akaashi-san.”

“Akaashi!” Kogane’s voice calls out, and he snaps his head over towards the crops to see the tall man waving madly at him. Ever since that day in the mess hall, the farmers have been going out of their way to talk to and spend time with Keiji. He doesn’t mind it, since it’s usually a good excuse to get more information from them. 

“I’d better go help with lunch. It was nice meeting you.” And then Kanoka is gone, taking her hopes and pleading with her. Good riddance. It’s hard enough with Bokuto standing right behind him, he can’t take her sad eyes either.

Keiji makes his way to Kogane. “What’s up?” 

“Can I show you our crop lands? It’s too cold to grow anything outside, but we have a pretty awesome setup!” Kogane is honest-to-god bouncing, reminding Keiji of Bokuto. The distraction is welcome. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Don’t forget us!” Futakuchi appears from a greenhouse, Aone not far behind him. Keiji nods his head at the stoic man, and he nods once back. Aone is definitely his favorite. They start walking, Keiji on the left, Futakuchi in the middle, Kogane on the right, and Aone trailing behind them.

“You don’t have a lot of greenhouses,” Keiji says conversationally.

“Oh yeah, we use the smokehouses more since we depend more on meat for the winters. But we have pretty good storage here!” Kogane explains excitedly. “You know, with the hospital and their special temperature-regulated stuff.” 

There’s a faint yelling that interrupts them, and Keiji startles when he realizes that it’s outside of Shiratorizawa’s steel walls. They all turn and watch the gates, interest piqued. 

_“Hey! Let me in!”_

The silver-haired right hand of Ushijima is the one at the gates. “It’s the leader of our informant group,” he calls over, and Ushijima waves at him, telling him to let them in.

The gates crank open and a man stumbles through, sweating heavily. “Thank you,” he gasps. “Antibiotics. I’ll trade you whatever you need. Please, I just need some antibiotics.” 

Semi grins at him. “We’ve been waiting for you, man. Your group’s already here.”

His face blanks in confusion. “They what? Where are they?” 

He laughs as he shuts the gates. “Follow me, I’ll take you to them.”

Semi and the man disappear, and Keiji looks back at Futakuchi. “Who’s that?” 

Futakuchi rolls his eyes. “Ushijima does business with a few transient groups around here. That’s the leader of one of them. Earlier today the rest of his group arrived in a car, had two sick ones that needed antibiotics. They’re all quarantining in one of the hospital wings right now. Apparently their boss ran ahead but they found a car and got here before him.”

“Not a fan?” Keiji asks, a smile on his lips. He’s well-acquainted with Futakuchi’s annoyed tone. 

Aone rumbles a laugh behind them. “Stop laughing!” Futakuchi twists around but doesn’t stop walking as he points a finger at his friend. “They just annoy me.” 

Keiji notices that Kogane has a hand clamped over his mouth and his grin widens. “They just annoy you, huh?” 

Futakuchi’s cheeks pinken, and Keiji refrains from opening his mouth in gleeful surprise. “Oh my gods, you have to tell me now.” Futakuchi mumbles something incomprehensible. “I’m sorry, what?” Keiji cups his hand around his ear and leans in. 

“They held a knife to my throat,” he grumbles, but Keiji catches it. 

“They what!” 

Kogane loses the fight against his hand and bursts out in a loud cackle. “He said something about one of them and got into a fight!” 

Futakuchi glares at his taller friend. “It wasn’t a fight! They just didn’t like what I said and then…”

Keiji can feel the dizziness hit him very suddenly, the ringing that's constantly in his ears increasing in volume until he can't hear Futakuchi's words anymore. 

"Akaashi?" Kogane's words pierce through the ringing in his head, and the sound merely increases. 

"Vertigo," he manages to spit out, hoping they won't think he's dying or turning into a member of the undead. If he's lucky, they'll drag him off and leave him alone. He can't imagine what might happen if more people see. Last time he had a public attack, Oikawa personally targeted him and his weakness. He isn't particularly looking forward to a repeat of that occurrence. 

He can vaguely hear the voices around him, but his brain is entirely focused on trying to stay upright. Eventually he teeters too far and falls, knees slamming into the dirt ground and hands bracing him as much as he can as he breathes heavily, trying not to puke. _Fuck._ This was long overdue, but _why now?_ Why _at all?_

There's more yelling, and Keiji is just aware enough to understand that people other than his friends saw him fall. Oh gods. They're probably going to want his head for this weakness. 

The voices are getting louder, all yelling, all on top of him, and his head throbs with his heartbeat. The throbbing is increasing, his throat clenching and muscles spasming. 

Oh no. He's going to die. They're going to see him as a liability and he's going to die he doesn't remember which way is up _he's going to die_ the ground won't stay in the same place _Shiratorizawa is going to attack Karasuno_ the earth tilts _they'll kill him they'll throw him out_ he dry heaves onto the ground there's nothing there _and leave him without food or weapons_ it's fine he's survived worse he can do it there's nothing in his stomach to lose _there's so much to lose_ maybe he can find Bokuto-san _maybe the world will stop spinning and spinning it's spinning stop spinning please gods stop spinning -_

In Bokuto's arms the world is still. In Bokuto's arms the world is still. In Bokuto's arms the world is still. In Bokuto's arms the world is still. In Bokuto's - 

Bokuto isn't here. Obviously. 

But suddenly there are arms around his shoulders, grounding him, and someone places a firm palm on his back as he dry heaves bile onto the dirt. Thank the gods he hasn't eaten anything in a while, or else this would be much messier. As it is, he gags at the taste in his mouth and fights to keep his eyes open in a futile attempt to stave off the dizziness. 

Somewhere above him, the shouting continues. 

He can't fathom how long he's on the ground, his body revolting against him, but eventually the world spins to a gradual stop, and he regains an awareness of the things around him. 

"- said vertigo," Futakuchi is saying. He's directly in Keiji's line of sight, speaking with... _Sarukui?_ When did those two start talking? Sarukui turns to Goshiki and Komi, muttering something with them. 

Keiji turns his attention to the two people he can feel near him. Kogane is sitting next to him, rubbing one large hand in circles on his back as he glares menacingly at the small crowd of people gathered. If Keiji looks harder, he can see Reon, Mai, and Chigaya standing in a semi-circle around him a few yards away, keeping others from getting closer to him. 

He cranes his neck to look directly behind him and is surprised to see Aone still holding him by the shoulders in a sort of hug, looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He's the only one so far to notice that Keiji has returned from his spell. Aone's grip is firm and comforting rather than confining, and Keiji finds himself immensely grateful for it.

"He can't stay here!" Someone from the outside crowd says. "What if he dies and turns into a rotter?"

"That puts all of us at risk, too!" Another person pipes up. 

"His condition is non-fatal," Komi says to the people who look uneasy. 

"Is it contagious?" Someone else asks. Or maybe it was one of the people from before? Keiji is having a hard time following the current argument.

"No. Once we have more information we will let you know. Vertigo is often caused by an inner ear problem. It's not contagious or fatal," Shirabu, of all people, says loudly. 

"Akaashi?" Kogane finally notices that he's cognizant. "Are you okay?" 

Keiji presses a hand against his temple and takes a grounding breath. "How bad is it?" He asks quietly. 

Kogane turns away for a moment to glance back over at the accumulating crowd. "People are scared," he says as he turns back, "but it's mostly 'cause they don't know you. Don't worry, we've got you." His reassurance is bolstered by Mai, who behind him physically pushes back a bystander who gets too close.

"Back off, Kamasaki," she bares her teeth at him, pushing at his chest again. "Give the man room to breathe."

"Even if it isn't fatal, he's a liability," a dark-haired man standing next to Kamasaki says uncertainly, his eyes meeting Keiji's briefly before he looks away. "What if we count on him and he goes into one of those vertigo things again?" 

"I take responsibility for my weakness," Keiji says as loud as he can manage, still on the ground ( _in Aone's arms, _a slightly humiliating fact that he tries to desperately ignore). The crowd quiets. "Any punishment you see fit for the results my shortcomings might wreak, I'll take."__

__"No," Shibayama, about the size of Kogane sitting, steps in front of him. "I'll take responsibility. Akaashi is a valued member of our team, and he's my friend. If his affliction inadvertently causes harm, I'll take responsibility."_ _

__"I will too," Mai shoots Keiji a reassuring smile. "I like Akaashi, and he has good ideas. I'll take responsibility for him."_ _

__"Uh, ditto," Futakuchi raises his hand, and Keiji watches with surprise and an odd-shaped lump in his throat as the rest of the farmers and the scientists, two opposing groups, stand up for him in front of the rest of their community. Their friends and family. It would be unbelievable, if he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes._ _

__These people, who he saw as nothing but the enemy, an obstacle keeping him from happiness and Bokuto, are now the only thing standing between him and an unfair sentencing._ _

__These people._ _

__His friends._ _

__He hasn’t had friends in so long. Even before all of this, it was hard for him to connect with others his age. They always saw him as too aloof or cold. Is this what friendship is? Sharing food, standing between an angry crowd and a helpless person, fighting for their right to survive?_ _

__"Then Akaashi Keiji will stay," Ushijima's loud voice says from the middle of the crowd. His affirmative shuts up anyone who still might protest out loud, "since he has so many community members who vouch for him. I hope to see the rest of you accept this decision, which I believe was made by the majority of the community."_ _

__Tendou grins wickedly from Ushijima's side. "It's still the middle of the day, don't you all have work to do?" With that, the crowd disperses a bit. Keiji swears he sees Tendou wink at Aone before he turns to leave._ _

__"Are you okay?" Sarukui crouches next to Keiji. He nods. "Good. Because you're going to give us a full explanation of whatever the fuck that was. But first, lunch?"_ _

__"Leave him the fuck alone. Can't you see he's exhausted?" Mai scowls and steps in front of him. She’s obviously still in full attack mode._ _

__"Of course we can. I'm a bit surprised you can though, for being a country bum," Komi steps up to the challenge that Sarukui probably would have walked away from._ _

__"All you need is eyes, dumbass. Let the poor dude eat and sleep. Then you can get your claws on him." Futakuchi shakes his head and offers Keiji a hand._ _

__"We can take him to his room. You know, since he's one of us."_ _

__"And let you exhaust him more? Not a fucking chance. You doctors and scientists think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don't you?"_ _

__"Well maybe our thoughts aren't unfounded!"_ _

__Keiji holds in a groan, watching as both groups of his friends start spitting more insults at each other._ _

__Kanoka was right. If they keep going like this, they'll tear Shiratorizawa apart. Unlike before, the thought makes him worried rather than excited._ _

__Dread pools in his stomach as the yelling gets louder. He can't leave, not yet. Not until he can assure the safety of everyone here._ _

__Not until he can help prevent a possible civil war._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUGA AND DAICHI TEASE EACH OTHER ALL THE TIME I WILL NOT ACCEPT ANY OTHER RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC AT THIS TIME THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION. 
> 
> Also there is a whole damn squad trying to get rid of Oikawa and I love that kind of solidarity woo go team (no hate tho...love me some Oikawa). 
> 
> Also.....i think this is going to be 11 chapters now maybe so fuck me
> 
> Fun Facts!  
> \- My entire household is invested in this fic. We spent 3 hours (not an exaggeration) talking about the stars and world imagery of Akaashi and Bokuto, and my roommates don’t even watch the show/read the manga. I just...they’re so dedicated and I love them for it. 
> 
> \- I refer to Inarizaki/Kita’s group as my “Wild Card” group in all of my outlines, and tbh I love that for them.
> 
> \- I originally was going to make everyone’s ages range from like 10 - 40, but decided against it because I didn’t want to have to explain all of their new ages and go through that song and dance. Therefore age doesn’t really matter and isn’t really talked about. There are mini hierarchies (much like HQ has with senpais and kouhais and captains and coaches), but they’re fairly arbitrary and just used to regulate character interactions and reinforce relationships.


	5. i'm getting tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao fun fact before the chapter: I wrote most of this chapter all in one go during a depressive episode back in early January! It was originally really dark and sad so I actually rewrote almost all of it a few weeks later lol. That being said, lo siento for any lingering awfulness. 
> 
> Enjoy! Un-beta’d.

* * *

[Bokuto](https://youtu.be/60ItHLz5WEA)

Hinata is sulking. Koutarou only notices it because it’s so extremely out of character that it would be near impossible to miss unless you were deliberately trying. Lev had tried talking with him, but they all watched as Hinata shrugged him off. Koutarou had laughed at the miffed look on Lev’s face when he rejoined the rest of them away from their breakfast fire, but now Kenma is giving Koutarou very obvious cues that he should go over and speak with his little disciple. 

Sick of Kenma’s unrelenting stare, Koutarou struts over and plops himself down on the wooden bench next to Hinata. They’ve set up camp inside a public park maintenance building that Yaku said was also used for events way back when. It has an actual fireplace in it, which is a novel luxury that Koutarou is still getting used to. No worrying about your shit catching on fire? It’s a miracle of space and science! 

“Hi Bokuto-san,” Hinata acknowledges him with an exhale, playing with a smooth rock in his hands. 

“Hey Hinata,” Koutarou says. “Got something on your mind?” Koutarou may be ‘simple-minded’ (his high school Japanese teacher), ‘emotionally stunted’ (his aunt that always wanted to pinch his cheeks without his permission), and ‘incapable of talking about serious things’ (his first ex-girlfriend), but he was a volleyball captain for five years! Of three different teams! And he knows how to talk to one of his teammates. That’s all Hinata is: a struggling teammate. 

Camp has been a little weird, ever since they ran into the not-dead dead guy. Yaku is a lot more withdrawn, and he and Tora sometimes get into yelling matches. But overall, it seems like everyone is trying to forget their friend. Koutarou doesn’t really understand (if his dead friend suddenly wasn’t dead he would be really excited and happy probably), but also he guesses that he didn’t really know Oikawa well, even when they were still living at Karasuno. It seems like there’s a lot of history there that he doesn’t feel like he can breach. 

Hinata scratches at some dirt on the rock. “Not really.” 

“Y’know, I really miss Akaashi,” Koutarou says, testing out a theory he has. “I miss the weird way he cooked ramen and the way he couldn’t be quiet whenever he brought out the pan and his laugh whenever I did something dumb.”

“I don’t miss him.” Koutarou knows they aren’t talking about Akaashi anymore. In fact, he’d put a lot of yen on the guess of another dark-haired, blue-eyed scowly person that they both know. “I guess I’m just...used to him. Right? I don’t miss him!” Hinata resolutely doesn’t raise his eyes from his hands. 

“You don’t miss anything about him?” Koutarou hedges.

“Nothing! Not his stupid face when it would twist up when he was annoyed, not his stupid arms when they were hugging me, not his stupid voice and the stupid way he’d yell at me.” Suddenly Hinata is dropping the rock and wiping a few stray tears from his face, his voice turning louder the more he mumbles. “I don’t miss him! Not anything! He’s stupid for not coming with me and I don’t miss him.” 

Koutarou is very painfully and suddenly reminded that Hinata is 15 years old. Or maybe 16? Who knows when birthdays are anymore. Koutarou himself knows that he turned 22 at some point, but whenever that was, he isn’t sure. 

“I’m probably not the best person to talk to,” Koutarou says, “but if you ever need to talk about it, you know I’m here, right?” 

Hinata nods. “Bokuto-san, when did you know that Akaashi-san was your person?” 

“My person?”

“Yeah. Like, your forever person.” Hinata’s face is so open and honest when he looks at him.

“Oh, um. Well, I guess I knew when I knew that I would walk the entire earth and tear apart every centimeter to find him if he ever went missing. And now that he has...I still know that I would look anywhere and do anything to make sure I see him again.”

“Oh,” Hinata says softly. A pause. “I think Kageyama is my person,” he says. 

Believe him, Koutarou has _no clue_ how that relationship works, but he’s not one to judge. “I’m sorry we took you away from him.”

Hinata’s expression is fierce when he looks at Koutarou. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry that he didn’t follow me, but I’m not sorry that I came with you. I really want you to find Akaashi-san, Bokuto-san. If Kageyama went missing, I think I’d do the same thing.” The fierceness fades away and is replaced by a wide grin. “Plus, I’m learning so much from you! You’re awesome, Bokuto-san. You’ve saved all of our lives more than once with your zombie-killing skills!” 

Koutarou squeezed Hinata’s shoulder. “You’re a really good kid, my little protege. Thank you for being here.” 

“We’re gonna find Akaashi-san. I can feel it! Thanks Bokuto-san. I miss Kageyama, but I think it’ll make it that much better when we go back to Karasuno and I can see him again.” He jumps up. “Gotta pee!” And then he runs off, Koutarou watching him go. 

“Nice kid,” Kuroo says as he takes Hinata’s vacant seat.

“Yeah. He’ll be alright,” Koutarou says distractedly, still watching the doorway that Hinata disappeared through. He tries to understand how hard it must have been for Hinata to leave Karasuno, to leave Kageyama, to join their search group. Did he really join them for the adventure, like he said? Or did he join them out of some kind of misguided hope?

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo interrupts his thoughts.

“I just...what are we doing?” Koutarou turns to look at Kuroo. 

Kuroo’s determined face is staring back at him. “We’re looking for Akaashi.”

Koutarou buries his face back in his hands. “I know. I know that! But is it worth it? Are we even doing anything?” 

“Bokuto,” Kuroo’s hand is on his back, but Koutarou shrugs it away. 

“When I was talking with Hinata I was trying to think of things that I miss about him and Kuroo, I can barely remember what it felt like to hold his hand. And I know it seems stupid, but--”

“It’s not stupid,” Kuroo’s voice is soft. Kuroo is almost never gentle, but his presence is calming like it always has been, reminding Koutarou that he’s not alone, no matter what might happen. “You miss him. You’re allowed to miss him, Bo. It’s almost been a half a year.”

“What if he thinks I’ve stopped looking for him?” 

Kuroo sighs, long and loud, and places his hand on Koutarou’s back again. Koutarou doesn’t have the strength to shrug it away this time. “Look. Akaashi and I might not have gotten along all that well, but I do know that he’s a stubborn bastard. And he believed in you completely. If Akaashi’s still out there, there’s no doubt in my mind that he hasn’t given up on you.” 

Koutarou unburies his face to look back at his friend. “Do you really think so?” 

“I know so.” Kuroo must see something in his face, because he smiles gently. “How about you take some time for yourself? An hour or so, just to get it together? Because we need you, man. You’re our fearless leader.”

Koutarou sometimes thinks that Kuroo knows him better than he knows himself. He nods, standing and heading for the small patch of trees that lines the park. He finds himself a small section of cleared grass, which he sits on and pulls his knees up to his chin, the ground cold where he’s sitting but the sun warm where it’s filtering through the dying tree leaves. 

His mind never used to be loud before. But ever since Akaashi disappeared, it’s been trying to make up for the uncomfortable silence that remains. It isn’t unless he’s alone, eyes squeezed shut and legs curled into his chest, that he can finally hear Akaashi’s voice again. 

He doesn’t say anything in particular. He tells Koutarou that he thinks about him. His familiar, _“Bokuto-san!”_ echoes around Koutarou’s head in these moments often. Sometimes, Akaashi’s voice calls out for help, and Koutarou can’t do anything to help him because he’s far, too far, and Akaashi slips away. He hopes that somehow, Akaashi can see his tag and see it as physical proof that he hasn't been forgotten. 

But this time, he just listens to the birds and the wind and the rustling leaves. And he unapologetically misses Akaashi. 

For the longest time, he thought that without Akaashi, he was nothing. And maybe it’s true. Hinata’s words come back to him: “You’ve saved all of our lives more than once!” And Koutarou wonders if maybe it would be okay to stop looking for Akaashi because Koutarou needs to, and start looking for Akaashi because Koutarou wants to. 

Honestly, is there a difference when it comes to his fearless Keiji? 

He isn’t sure how long he sits there in complete unawareness, but Koutarou is ripped from his meditation by Kuroo’s loud screeching. It’s something Koutarou’s never heard before in his life, and the sound _terrifies_ him. Kuroo isn’t the kind of person to screech.

He scrambles to his feet and books it towards their camp. His sneakers slip on the mud but he merely rights himself and runs faster, because Kuroo’s awful yelling still hasn’t stopped and it’s scaring him. 

He bursts into the park maintenance building and freezes. 

The scene in front of him is...surprising. To his right, Lev and Tora are standing similarly to him, frozen in shock as they watch the events unfold in front of them. Apparently, Hinata and Yaku are off somewhere else, because they’re nowhere to be seen. In front of them is Kuroo, who is almost chest-to-chest with another person, and gripping tightly to Kuroo’s dirt-caked sleeve is Kenma, his face impassive. He seems to be the only thing keeping Kuroo at bay from full-on attacking. Kuroo himself is bursting with life.

“Why!!!? Why the fuck are you alive?? Out of every _godsforsaken person who could still be alive WHY IS IT YOU?!”_ He’s shrieking. Koutarou squints at the person Kuroo’s a few milliseconds and one sweatshirt sleeve away from killing and gasps in recognition. 

“Oh hey!! Daishou, right? How are you!” He grins, inserting himself in the scene. 

The brown-haired man gives Koutarou a friendly smile, as if Kuroo isn’t still spitting curses at him. “Hello Bokkun! Nice to see you again.”

“Stop being nice to him!” Kuroo yells. He points an accusing finger at the other man. “Do you know what he did?!” 

Daishou rolls his eyes. “Tetsurou--”

“Don’t call me that!”

Koutarou thinks he’s definitely missing something here. He hasn’t seen Daishou in...well, years. They used to play his team in volleyball, and he and Kuroo were pretty good friends during that time. “Um...no?” If anything, Kuroo looks more livid at his words. “Like I know you guys were friends!” He says quickly, trying to get Kuroo’s heated gaze off of him.

The heat disappears, and Kuroo stares at him blankly. “He came over to my house every weekend, Bokuto. And it wasn’t for sleepovers.”

Koutarou blinks at him. “Wasn’t for…?” Kuroo raises his eyebrows, and to his right Tora clears his throat and makes a little circle with his forefinger and thumb, then pokes his index finger through the hole. Oh. _“Oooooohhh,”_ Koutarou breathes. He looks between Kuroo and Daishou. “You guys were fucking!” 

“No shit!” Kuroo’s worked up again, maybe at the mention that he used to have sex with Daishou. Wait. Kuroo and Daishou were having sex…

“Did you cheat on Kenma?” Koutarou now points an accusing finger at his best friend. Kuroo might be his bro, but Kenma is also his bro. And bros cheating on bros is not cool, even if they’re your bro. Okay wait now he’s confused all over again. 

Kuroo’s entire face scrunches up. “What? No!” He momentarily glances back at Kenma, who still has a death grip on his sleeve. “Kenma and I didn’t start dating until our freshman year of university.” 

Wait. _“What?_ I thought you guys started dating in middle school?” Koutarou’s world is a little shook right now. “Wait I’m confused about another thing. Why do you hate him?” He points at Daishou. 

Kuroo glares absolute daggers at the other man, as if just remembering that he’s there. “Because he kept wanting to continue our relationship even though I _had a boyfriend!”_ Kuroo makes a rude gesture, then points to Kenma. Kenma looks like he would rather be anywhere else than right here, playing referee to his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s ex-fuckbuddy. 

“For the millionth time, I didn’t know it was serious!! You were always saying that shit to make me jealous!” 

“I _told_ you it was serious of course it was fucking serious!” 

“Well I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on all of your super vague mannerisms!” Daishou yells back. “I’m not the best at taking hints!” 

“Well take this hint!” Kuroo flips him off. “Fucking leave!” 

“Okay okay but wait,” Lev says hurriedly, letting out a little noise of discomfort when Kuroo turns his glare at him but forging on anyways. Koutarou has respect for that, even if Lev is slowly inching behind Tora to hide from Kuroo. “He said that he had information on a nearby community, right? We could use that to keep looking for Akaashi-san.” 

“And he doesn’t have another group out here, right? We can’t just let him go off on his own when we can easily accommodate--” Tora cuts himself off at Kuroo’s murder eyes sliding to him. 

“I will not share a campsite with that asshole,” Kuroo says with an art of finality.

“Who are you calling asshole, asshole?” Daishou spits. He has the workings of a smile on his face, though, and Koutarou thinks that the dude might be enjoying this a bit too much.

“Last I remember, you were a fan of my asshole, asshole.” Kuroo sticks his tongue out in a very mature display of distaste. “Is it really an insult if you call me one?”

Daishou curls his lip. “In front of your boyfriend? Really, Tetsurou?” 

“Don’t. Call me that,” Kuroo seethes. 

Kenma shrugs. “I’ve heard him say worse. We’ve been friends for over a decade. I can actually quote back to you every single thing he’s ever said that’s worse.”

Kuroo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please do not.” 

Kenma nods seriously at Daishou. “He really is a horrible person.” 

“There’s no more fucking loyalty in this group,” Kuroo grumbles, yanking his sleeve from Kenma’s grip. 

“Hey!” Yaku’s voice comes from right outside before the door opens, revealing his and Hinata’s urgent faces. “We gotta go. Slow but big hoard is on its way here now. Not worth the risk.” 

They all trade looks before Kuroo is already stalking towards the fire. “Pack it up!” He yells to the rest of them. “Let’s get going!” 

They spring into action, Tora and Lev grabbing blankets and bedding while Hinata and Yaku pack up the backpacks. Kenma takes down their noise traps while Koutarou grabs his weapon, eyeing Daishou up and down. 

“Can you actually take us to a nearby community?”

Daishou nods. “Inarizaki isn’t too far from here. They might have what you need. Supplies, shelter, information.” 

Koutarou squints at him for a moment, then shrugs. “If Kuroo says it’s fine, I’d be cool with you joining us. What happened to your last group?” 

Daishou meets his gaze. “I’m actually part of Inarizaki. I’m what you could call a recruiter.” The word sends a shock of uneasiness through the group.

“We don’t have to stay if we go with you, do we?” Tora asks.

“Are you part of another community?” Daishou asks.

“Yeah. We belong to Karasuno,” Yaku says as he shoulders one of the backpacks. 

“Karasuno. Huh. Yeah no, you don’t have to worry about staying.” 

They all turn to Kuroo, waiting for his answer. Kuroo is still smothering the fire, and when he realizes they’re all looking at him he sighs loudly. 

“Fuck it. Let’s go, _family trip to Inarizaki!_ But I wouldn’t recommend sleeping with my back turned on that snake,” Kuroo jabs his finger at their newest addition, who merely grins.

“I could say the same thing about you, Tetsurou.”

_“Don’t call me that!!”_

* * *

[Suga](https://youtu.be/tuK6n2Lkza0)

“So all you need to do is debate with him long enough to make his allies doubt him,” Yamaguchi says, rubbing his palm roughly with his thumb. 

“I know, we’ve been over this.” Suga’s trying not to think about the Town Hall they’re all currently walking to, but Yamaguchi has been obsessing over the plan all day.

“I know Suga, but I just want to make sure you remember. And I remember. And that we all remember oh gods,” Yamaguchi takes a stabilizing breath while Tsukishima reaches over and grabs one of his hands, not even breaking stride. 

“Don’t worry, Suga-san. We’ll be right here the whole time. We’ll bring up some of the hot-topic issues around Karasuno so that you can find the appropriate opening. We’ll keep talking for as long as necessary.” 

Suga nods firmly at him, then turns to Ennoshita, who’s walking on his other side by Daichi. “And you’re sure that Oikawa’s outside contacts will be here today?”

Ennoshita nods grimly. “I saw them earlier, and Konoha confirmed that they’ll be here for at least another few hours. All we have to do is reveal his weaknesses in front of their leader and hopefully they’ll doubt him.”

Suga refrains from chewing on his bottom lip, but it’s a close thing. He doesn’t want them all to know how nervous he is. 

Ennoshita seems to catch on anyway. “Don’t worry Suga,” he says. “We have more allies than you think.” 

Suga nods. “I just...it’s hard to believe that it’s come to this.” Oikawa was his friend. And now, to be actively plotting against him...it feels wrong. 

“I know,” Daichi says to him softly. “But what you’re doing is right. It’s for the good of the community.” Right. The good of the community. This is what needs to happen. Suga just wishes that there was another way. 

“Oikawa will step down once he sees that he’s lost his support,” Ennoshita says confidently. 

“And if he doesn’t?” Suga asks tentatively. He’s more worried than he expected to be, mostly because he had tried to speak with Oikawa beforehands, but the other man was adamant about brushing him off. He won’t take them seriously, and Suga is worried about the other man looking like a fool. Hell, he’s afraid of himself looking like a fool. And then what happens, when no one has the respect of the community any longer?

Ennoshita sighs. He obviously knows what a very real possibility that is. “Then we get more creative.” He cracks a small smile, making eye contact with Tanaka. “I believe in our ability to think on the fly.” 

Tanaka’s grin is feral. “You can count on us, Suga-san. We’ve got your back.”

They push their way into the mess hall, which has been arranged so that most of the tables are pushed to one side and only a few remain on the other. It’s nearly full, with anyone who has a free moment milling about and waiting for the meeting to start. These events always have large crowds, which can be credited to the fact that there isn’t a wide variety of entertainment options around the compound. 

They have a Town Hall about once every month or so to go over issues that people want addressed or to give the community a chance to regroup. Or, like today, you can request a Town Hall and as long as there’s no big events happening in the community, you’ll likely be approved. Tanaka elbows Suga gently and jerks his head at a table near one of the back exits. There sits a group of five people, outsiders, who talk softly among themselves. So those are Oikawa’s outside contacts. They don’t look especially intimidating except for the leader, which is obviously the shorter man sitting in the middle of the group. They all gravitate towards him, hanging onto his every word, as he sits without a worry in the world. He knows that no one would dare touch him with his strong group around him. 

Takeda is usually the moderator of such events, and today is no exception. As Suga and his group take their seats, Takeda stands from his spot on the sparse side of the mess hall, drawing the attention of everyone.

“Welcome to the Town Hall! The sun is high in the sky so we’ll start. If the meeting runs long I’ll stop it and allow for shift changes, then we can continue. As you all know, today’s Town Hall was called by Ennoshita. Ennoshita-kun, what would you like to speak to us about today?”

Ennoshita stands, rolling his shoulders back as if bracing for a fight. “I’d like to bring attention to some issues plaguing the community and publicly ask our current leadership what their plans are regarding these issues.”

Takeda frowns. “Are these going to be problems that have been brought up before? Or will the individuals you’re approaching need time to come up with a solution?”

“These are ongoing issues, Sensei,” Ennoshita nods.

Takeda nods back at him once, firmly. “Wonderful. Proceed.”

Ennoshita takes a quick, steadying breath. “The first issue is the problem of the wall. There has been a weak spot on it for the last few weeks, and this problem was brought up at the last meeting. It has not been resolved, and I’d like to appeal to Oikawa to ask why.” 

Oikawa is sitting near the front of the mess hall, near the lone tables where Takeda and Ukai are sitting but not quite separated from the rest of the community. He stands, an easy smile on his face as he throws his hands out to his sides. “What problems with the wall? I went out and checked them out myself after they were brought up, and I saw nothing wrong.”

Ennoshita sets his jaw. “I’m talking about your little doggy door on the south side of camp.” The room is so silent that Oikawa’s confused laugh feels like it could shatter eardrums. Suga numbly looks up at Ennoshita, having no clue what he’s talking about, but the other man seems to be on a roll. 

“Not only is it generally unsafe but it’s also a direct hazard to our community.”

Oikawa scoffs. “It’s not as if just anyone can waltz through. It has a specific latch on the outside that makes it so that you have to know what you’re looking for in order to enter. It’s not a danger to the community.”

Ennoshita isn’t swayed. “But no one else in the community knows about it. How can we protect ourselves from a possible attack or if - gods forbid - a zombie gets in through it somehow? We don’t have anyone on that part of the wall with any frequency.” 

Takeda stands with clear interest on his face. “I wasn’t aware of this door. Where is it, and what purpose does it serve?”

Ennoshita clearly looks over at Oikawa, awaiting his answer. Oikawa smiles reassuringly. “We only use it for deliveries and collections,” he placates. “And only during emergencies, when we cannot spare the sentries on the wall for--”

“That’s a blatant lie,” Ennoshita cuts in. At this point, Suga is trying his hardest not to yank Ennoshita back into his seat. This is beyond ballsy, and if things don’t go well then he and those he cares about might be at risk. The resolve is strong in his eyes, though, and Tanaka looks just as determined. 

A quick glance at Yamaguchi, though, tells Suga that the nervous boy is thinking the same thing he is. 

Oikawa’s glare is fierce as Ennoshita forges on. “Oikawa has been using the door for personal reasons, just as he’s been using community resources to search for and attack a bandit troupe that has not been seen in almost a year,” he says strongly. A choked-off intake of breath comes from the left, and Suga notices the shock on Kinoshita’s face. He’s not looking at Oikawa, though. He’s looking straight at Ennoshita, who’s still going. 

“I was one of the members he was blackmailing to continue the search against the best interests of Karasuno. I’m speaking out because I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and because there’s a better way than letting Oikawa’s hatred fuel our community.” 

“Blackmailing?” Takeda’s expression is severe. “Ennoshita, do you have any evidence to back up these claims?”

“I can back ‘im up!” Saeko stands suddenly from her spot in the middle of their congregation. She shares a look with her brother, who nods her on. “I was also being blackmailed by Oikawa. He said that he’d send some unsavory people after Ryuu if I didn’t do what he said.” 

“Wait!” Konoha stands too. “Everything Oikawa’s done has been for the good of this community. He cares about keeping us safe.” The background noise of murmurs increases in volume at his claim.

“Do you all forget that Oikawa almost single-handedly started a war with Shiratorizawa?” Saeko says harshly. 

Someone’s voice reaches above the throng. “That was unavoidable! They wanted to take our seeds!” 

Suga finds himself abruptly standing to join the conversation. “That’s a lie!” The hall silences, and he wants to curl into himself. For the sake of Ennoshita and Saeko and everyone else, he doesn’t. “Six months ago, I was on a short run with some other members of the community. We ran into a Shiratorizawa member, who offered terms of peace. They were offering their own seeds as part of the exchange.” 

Immediately, the hall is loud again, voices calling out over one another in order to be heard. In the middle of it is Oikawa, his expression an odd mixture of lividness and blankness. Suga wonders where he is right now, undoubtedly lost somewhere in that ever-thinking mind of his. 

“What do you propose!?” Ukai’s voice is loud and commanding over the unrest. Everyone quiets down again. “If what you’re sayin’ is true, then what do you all propose as a solution?” 

Ennoshita nods and all of his supporters stand. “We propose an immediate exchange of power. Oikawa should step down, and Suga-san can take over his responsibilities. This way, he can no longer hurt our community.” Cue the overlapping yells again.

Almost without thought, Suga turns to look at Oikawa’s enforcers. They don’t look pleased with this turn of events, but whatever they might be thinking, Suga can’t imagine. 

This really might be the end of Oikawa’s reign. The thought fills him with a surprising amount of dread.

* * *

[Oikawa](https://youtu.be/gVXl6v_-onU)

Oikawa watches the events of the Town Hall unfold with a boiling rage settling in his stomach. He knows better than to speak yet among this new declaration, instead letting the others of the community fight over his validity and motives instead. Anything he says likely won’t be taken well, and at this point he’s not sure if he can keep himself together long enough to make a good argument. 

How can he, when they’re attacking him? When _Ennoshita,_ of all people, raises concerns against him? When Ennoshita is probably the only person who knows enough and hates him enough to actually make this kind of move. Oikawa planned for a lot of events, but he never planned for Ennoshita to stiffen his upper lip and actually bring up charges against him in front of the whole community. Doing that means admitting weakness, and that’s never been one of the sleepy-eyed man’s strengths. 

The thing he’s probably most upset about is the number of people who agree with that wimp. Can't they see? He loves Iwaizumi. Loved Iwaizumi. _Loves_ Iwaizumi. Everything that Oikawa has ever done, will ever do, is currently doing, is because of this aching hole left in him. He can only hope to distract from it, never fill it. It's like how you can't regenerate a limb once it's been cut off. He can almost relate to Suga-chan's boytoy in that respect: he's sure that the guy will never go a day without feeling the loss or forgetting the ache, just like him.

Does that mean nothing to them? 

Oikawa wonders if Ennoshita would be able to stage a fucking coup if his fucktoy was killed in front of him (Tanaka, he knows his name is Tanaka. In fact, he used to be pretty friendly with Tanaka because everyone likes the dude. He's a strong ally to have under better circumstances, but in his distaste for Ennoshita, Tanaka loses his identity). He hates himself only for a second for wishing that everyone here could feel his pain, because if they could, they would understand. He can't let it go. It's Iwaizumi. 

_"I'm Hajime," the kid says during their second meeting._

Hajime. _Tooru says it a few times to test it out in his mouth. He likes it._

_"Do you want to play volleyball with me?" The olive branch extended, they both grip on with no intent of letting go._

_As they play, the scene changes and Tooru can see them on the court. Himself, the most motivated setter in Miyagi. Hajime, his ace. The two of them seamlessly fitting together for every play. Hajime knows each tilt of his head, can recognize the stuttering of his breath. Tooru can pick up on Hajime's condition just by looking at him. Today, it's perfect._

_Hajime. Every day, he's beautiful. In perfect form, he's breathtaking. His textbook approach and careful eyes take his spikes past the blockers, carrying them to victory._

_Hajime turns to Tooru, his eyes alight with pure joy._

_Tooru fell in love with his expressions._

_Hajime is running towards him, arms open._

_Hajime is lifting him into the air, spinning them around in celebration._

_Hajime's smile is unrivaled by every wonder of the world._

_Then they’re nine years old, and Hajime’s smile is all he can see through the blurred lens of pain._

_“It’s okay, Tooru,” Hajime is consoling him. “You’re okay.”_

_“I-it hurts,” Tooru sniffs. His wrist is throbbing from where it slammed into the ground as he braced himself on the fall. Above him, the playset looms, a new enemy in this world of magic and sunshine and Hajime._

_“I know,” Hajime tries for another smile. “But it’ll feel better when Onee-san comes back with your mom. Do you want me to kiss it? That’s what my momma does when I hurt.”_

_Tooru holds out his wrist. “Will you?” He asks softly._

_Gently, Hajime leans forward and with the grace of a nine-year-old presses his sun-chapped lips to Tooru’s skin. His smile is reassuring and careful. Tooru doesn’t know it yet, but this is the moment that he remembers most clearly when he thinks about falling in love with Hajime._

And who do they want to put into power in place of him? _Suga-chan?_ He’s too soft. Unable to make the hard decisions when it really comes to it. Suga isn’t a born leader, not like so many others are. Not like himself. 

“You know, Ennoshita, it’s cowardly of you to make all of these claims and not take any responsibility for the things that you’ve done.” Oikawa finally speaks. A strange hush falls over the hall. “How about instead of raising yourself up above my level, you lower yourself back down to mine. It’s only fair, after all.”

Ennoshita’s glare is delicious. “Everything I’ve done is in self defense. I had to keep my family safe from you.”

Oikawa spreads his arms out to his sides. “I can say the exact same thing. Have I not kept Karasuno safe from impending war?” 

“A war you tried to start!” Saeko butts in.

Ugh, he hates it when his underlings grow spines. “Don’t pretend to know everything, Saeko-chan,” Oikawa says flippantly. If he shows the community that he’s not worried, they won’t be worried either. “There’s much more going on behind the scenes than you know.” 

“Like you sending out search groups for no other reason than to look for the bandit troupe that killed Iwaizumi?” To his surprise, it’s Tsukishima that stands up. Bastard’s finally decided to take a side, which is an interesting development. “The last one almost didn’t come back.” 

“They were doing important work for the community,” Oikawa says sharply. 

“Going after a group of bandits that no one’s seen in almost a year?” Tsukishima scoffs. “I was there, Oikawa. I know that what happened to Iwaizumi was horrible. But going on a wild goose chase of revenge just so you can feel better is a fatal choice in a community like this. We need to carefully allocate resources, not just send them out on any whim.”

They don't get it. They don’t understand the weight of Iwaizumi’s absence. How it follows him wherever he goes, how the guilt and the anger and the frustration made their home in Oikawa’s soul, how Tooru died with his best friend, his first love, his reason for trying to fly. Don’t they know what he’s sacrificing? 

_“Go, go!” Hajime shouts excitedly._

_Tooru stares at Hajime as if he’s an alien._

_“Hey dummy! If you don’t keep playing then we’ll both lose!” Tooru quickly follows Hajime’s instructions and turns his head back to the screen, thumbs moving furiously in an attempt to keep his little avatar alive._

_They were nearing the boss battle, fighting to keep going so they wouldn’t have to redo the entire level. They’re using his sister’s game and Tooru knows that she’ll likely be back in the room soon to demand that she have her turn, so they don’t have time to redo it all._

_And Hajime sacrificed his avatar to get Tooru further towards the checkpoint._

_He wonders why. Why would Hajime sacrifice his own game time to get them further in the level? Especially after Tooru had been yelling at him, blaming him for their failures at the level. Now all he’s doing is cheering Tooru on, giving him hints as to how to beat the boss._

_It’s reminiscent of the beginning of the apocalypse, when Tooru knew that he would do anything to keep Iwaizumi alive. He had subconsciously picked up on the protecting instincts that his oldest friend has had since the beginning of their friendship._

_Oikawa has never deserved Hajime. That much is very, very clear._

“Everything I have ever done is to protect this community!” Oikawa shouts, silencing the entirety of the room. Every eye is on him, and he’s both acutely aware and uncaring of that fact. “When Shiratorizawa was coming too close to our community, who took initiative and dealt with them? When other communities began taking the unscavenged resources in our area, who pointed that out and created a team to deal with it? Who made the connections with other communities to get us seeds? Who negotiated with other communities for Karasuno’s continued safety?”

No one dares speak. And then it’s Suga, mild, weak Suga, who stands alone. 

“You undoubtedly were important in building this community,” he says. “But now you’re close to destroying it. Of course we appreciate all that you’ve done for us, but it’s time to consider that you may not be able to sustain your current leadership style.” Suga’s eyes hold an intensity that Oikawa’s never seen before. It excites him. It confuses him. It makes him think that finally, Mr. Refreshing actually wants something...and he’s willing to fight for it. 

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa’s more than willing to do the same.

“And you think that you can be better for Karasuno with yours?” He raises an eyebrow. “Tell me, Suga-chan. Do you know how the wall sentry timetable works? Or do you have intimate knowledge of the places the scavengers have already scavenged? Do you have any practical knowledge of anything outside of Karasuno?” He cocks his head mockingly at the silver-haired man. “Tell me, Sugawara, since the start of the apocalypse, have you been anywhere else other than Karasuno and that university library you were cowering in?”

Ohoho, that makes something burn in Suga’s eyes. Oikawa grins. But then something happens. Instead of rising to his bait, Suga-chan takes a breath and tames the fire that’s undoubtedly burning inside of him, then calmly turns his gaze back to Oikawa. 

“Ever since Iwaizumi died, you’ve been going too far. We alI know it, yourself included. Your inability to stay grounded is a detriment to the entire community. Oikawa, you know that Karasuno can be better. And you know that the things you’ve been doing have prevented it. You’ve completely ignored pressing problems because you’re too focused on the long game. And not only that, but you're focused on a long game that doesn’t even benefit us!

“Logically,” Suga continues, “you know that this can’t continue. Iwaizumi’s killers are long gone. It’s unfair to the rest of our community for you to continue to drag us along on this wild goose chase of revenge. It’s not only killing you, but it’s killing Karasuno. And I know that you care about us all too much to watch us fall after all of this hard work that you’ve put into building us up.” 

_“You’re killing me!” Hajime falls dramatically to the ground, Tooru’s stick protruding from the gap between his chest and his arm._

_“Ha! I have defeated the monster that has been hurting the villagers!” Tooru cheers for himself, making various crowd noises with his mouth as he waves a hand in the air to greet his imaginary yet adoring fans._

_“I...will never….recover……” Hajime sticks his tongue out to symbolize his final death, and Tooru can’t hold back the barrage of giggles that threaten to overcome him._

_“Are you ever gonna take a turn as the villain?” Hajime peeks open a single eye before sitting up, the illusion of his death gone._

_Tooru places a hand on his chest with a sense of self-importance. “I cannot be the villain, dear Hajime, because being the hero is the best. And I’m the best at it! But if you don’t want to be the villain anymore we can both be the heroes!”_

_Hajime thinks it over. “Okay! But if you want we can play hero and villain one more time. I’ll be super evil, so you have to be super good!”_

_“Perfect! I’ll save everyone from the big bad Hajime!”_

Oikawa blinks back into the present to see Suga watching him with careful eyes. Oh. He’s no longer the hero. Because here Sugawara Koushi is, swooping in to save the day from big bad Oikawa, who’s threatening the villagers and wreaking havoc wherever he goes. 

He hasn’t been the hero. 

It occurs to him that maybe he never was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ennoshita is _out. for. blood._ He’s also easily one of my favorite characters to write. Can you tell? To me, I see him and I see a dynamic character with so much potential. Fucking love Ennoshita Chikara in this house. 
> 
> This chapter was the hardest for me to write???? I’m not good at political things and this is kind of accidentally super argumentative and political. So. That happened. Hopefully it doesn’t suck though! All of your kind comments are helping me slog through this fic (the longest one I've ever written!) and I appreciate you all so much! Thank you! 
> 
> Fun Facts!  
> \- I originally wasn’t going to reveal Iwaizumi’s deceit until this chapter, but I figured that “Boss” would be pretty easy to figure out due to the fact that he refers to zombies as ‘rotters’ and is the only person that all of Seijo respects. I also thought that Oikawa’s chapters would be 5 million times more depressing if we thought that Iwaizumi was still dead. The point of this fic is to be fun to read, not hopelessly depressing lol. 
> 
> \- This is the first chapter where the upbeat part of my playlist starts to bleed back in!!! We started it with “Psycho Killer” back in chapter 3, but now we start to get into the part of the playlist that I listened to most while pounding this fic out (that sounds horribly inappropriate, but honestly that’s the most accurate description I can think of). 
> 
> \- A moment that I tried to use in this fic but never got to: Akaashi loses Bokuto in a loud place and sighs, knowing what he has to do. Resigned, he lifts his hands to cup his mouth as he shouts into the air, “Hoot hoot!” (Bokuto immediately responds).


	6. if you have a minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We officially passed the word count for “The hands we’re given,” making this my longest fic to date!! And we’re barely halfway through!!! Holy crap y’all!!! 
> 
> I feel like I need to tag this _plot_ as slow burn. Like what are we building up to? And where the fuck is the climax??? Never hear of her. 
> 
> Ayy uh...cw for grief, panic attacks, flashbacks, etc. This one was rough to write but might not be rough to read! Just wanted to lyak just in case though!

* * *

[Oikawa](https://youtu.be/t5WIGwstdq4)

The realization of his villainy is a numbing one. It’s sudden and startling, leaving his mind spinning and vision swimming.

“Oikawa?” Suga-chan asks, taking a hesitant step towards him, and Oikawa is acutely aware of the fact that he’s been floating in and out of their reality for at least a few seconds, likely for a minute or more.

The ground is beneath his feet. His shirt is rough against his skin. The cool air from outside is brushing against his cheek. He is here. He hasn’t gone anywhere.

_“Where are you going?” Hajime is puffing a little as he tries to keep up on the new mountain trail they’re trying. Twelve years old, with just enough freedom to bike around the mountainous terrain of Miyagi, Tooru is laughing and shooting a playful look back at Hajime._

_“Can you keep up?” He laughs as Hajime sticks his tongue out at him._

_“Of course I can, Dumb-kawa!”_

_“Mean, Haji-chan!” Tooru giggles as he turns back around, standing on his pedals to get up the small incline ahead of them._

_The sun is warm and Hajime is laughing too and Tooru is happy. So happy. When he dreams, he dreams of crystal skies and roads made of ribbons and of Hajime’s laugh lifting through the air. Bandaids on knees and dirt on noses and crooked smiles on faces._

_“Follow me!” Tooru shouts excitedly, veering off onto a dirt path that he knows leads back to  
their houses eventually. _

_“A little warning next time?” Hajime grumbles, but he follows._

_He always does._

The ground is beneath his feet. Suga’s concerned eyes are boring into him. “I think we should continue this in private,” he looks towards Takeda, then at Kita and his band of sly dogs. Oikawa’s never been very good at reading Kita, but for once he knows exactly what the other man is thinking.

Takeda is saying something to the group, likely breaking up this useless meeting. Someone grabs his arm gently, and he realizes that at some point Suga has latched onto his arm and is pulling him away, out of the mess hall and towards the building that holds his office.

“Are you okay?” Suga’s asking, still worried even though it’s Oikawa who’s been hurting him. Who’s been ruining Karasuno. Again, over and over, Oikawa has brought nothing but ruin.

“Oikawa,” Kita’s dispassionate voice is in his other ear. He turns to see his impassive face. “I know that this might not be the best time, but I think it’s best if we terminate our agreement. If you’d like to renegotiate terms, you know where to find us. Otherwise, we’re square.”

Oikawa nods numbly, watching as Kita disappears around one of the buildings. Suga is still giving him that infuriatingly concerned look, this time tinged with disapproval.

“I’m fine, Refreshing-kun.” He rips his arm from Suga’s grasp, following the other man as they walk inside his office. The way Suga’s looking at him, he knows that his former friend is confused by his actions, maybe afraid of what he might do next.

But for the first time in a long time, his mind has screeched to a halt. The sudden standstill allows thoughts of Iwaizumi to flood his head. He’s drowning in them, grasping tightly to Iwaizumi’s walking stick and wishing desperately for a breath of air.

“Oikawa,” Suga says again, his voice unbearably soft.

_“Stop,”_ the word rips its way out of his mouth. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you look like you’re going to cry,” Suga answers carefully.

“I don’t need your pity!” Oikawa glares at him.

Suga’s brow crinkles. “It’s not pity. You’re my friend, and I want you to be okay.”

“Okay?” A hysterical laugh bubbles from his lips. “Nothing’s okay! What does okay even mean!?”

Suga looks at a loss. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He slams the walking stick roughly onto the wooden floor, making Suga jump a little. “Talk about what? Talk about _him?”_ He gestures towards where Iwaizumi is standing by the doorway, that _stupid fucking smile_ on his face. “Talk about how I see him everywhere? How it’s my fault? How all I ever wanted was to keep everyone else safe like I couldn’t do for him and I still managed to _fuck it up because I fuck up everything!?”_ The walking stick clatters to the ground as Oikawa buries his face in his hands, because Iwaizumi is reaching out a hand to him, asking him an unspoken question that Oikawa can’t decipher, and he can’t bear to look at him any longer.

“Why can’t I stop seeing him?” He sobs into his hands, falling to the floor and leaning his back against his desk, sobs ripping their way out of his mouth. _“I’m going crazy,”_ he whispers harshly, choking on another sob, drowning in how much he misses Iwaizumi, unable to breathe from the grief in his lungs.

He feels him, he knows Iwaizumi is watching from the doorway, he knows he can see him if he opens his eyes. “I can’t,” he hiccups, a hand resting on his shoulder that wasn’t there before. “I can’t, I don’t want to see him, I can’t,” he sobs, trying to cry out the ocean inside of him in hopes that he can finally breathe. He just wants to breathe. Why can’t he breathe?

Suga grabs him by both shoulders. “Oikawa, look at me. Look at me! Oh shit, um, the floor!” His voice is suddenly louder. “Do you feel the floor? It’s right there, um, you’re sitting on it. And my hands. They’re on your shoulders. Do you feel them? How about we breathe together? We can breathe to a nursery rhyme. Like, the rhythm. Um, twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are.”

Suga’s thought process startles a laugh out of him, and the silver-haired man pulls back in surprise at the sound. “Suga-chan, are you singing me a song that we all learned in elementary school English class?”

He looks confused, then starts to laugh at the absurdity of the situation too.

“I suppose I am,” Suga gets out between chuckles. “I thought it might help with the breathing.”

“How?? You’re so fucking weird, Suga-chan.”

Their laughs die down a bit and they both sigh, catching their breath.

“How did we get here?” Suga sighs, looking out at the wall of his office contemplatively.

“I’m really good at fucking things up.” Oikawa wipes at his face, trying to stop the tears that are flowing down his cheeks.

“I mean, kind of,” Suga admits, then they both laugh again. It’s much more watery and tentative, reminiscent of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s first few months at the compound. He and Suga had quickly struck up a friendship built from necessity, bonded by their love for the community and their need to keep it from self-imploding after the death of Ukai Ikkei.

Suga sighs, and Oikawa can feel the friendly atmosphere darken. “It can’t be like this anymore, Oikawa. You can’t just keep hurting yourself. Because it’s hurting Karasuno.”

He knows. Gods, he knows that. Maybe he’s known it for a while, and instead of fixing it or trying to heal he just pushed it away. He let his anger fuel him, some sort of fugue state where he thought he could fix it all, that he could keep everyone safe. It was delusional.

“I don’t know if I can fix it,” Oikawa says. Hollowly, he knows it’s true. The person who broke it can’t always be the one to fix it, too.

“You don’t have to. That’s what the rest of us are for.”

He laughs bitterly. He isn’t sure who he’s angry at anymore. Ennoshita, for pointing out his shortcomings? Suga, for being so understanding? Iwaizumi, for letting them fall apart and then dying? No. He’s just angry at himself, now. “Is this what you imagined when you first met me? Ruin and sadness and breakdowns on the floor?” It isn’t what he imagined. He imagined safety and Iwaizumi’s arms and people to rely on.

“You lost someone,” Suga says consolingly. “That changes you.”

“As if you would know,” he spits, then immediately regrets it when Suga’s face twists into something awful and sad. “Sorry. You do.”

Suga sighs. “I don’t recognize you anymore, Oikawa. You’re not the same person who was my friend.”

The hot burst of annoyance is bright and fizzles out as quickly as it comes. “Of course I’m not the same!” _I’m only half of what I was. I can never be whole. I don’t know if I can ever truly recover._ The rest goes unsaid, but it hangs between them heavily. Oikawa thinks back to the months leading up to Iwaizumi’s death, and thinks that he had changed long before his best friend left him.

“I think it’s time for you to take some time to yourself, so you can heal.”

_“It’s time,” Hajime says. His expression holds a sort of mournful quality to it that makes no sense on such a young face as he unscrews the lid of the jar._

_Oikawa furrows his brow. “Why do you let them go if you just get sad?”_

_Hajime watches the quickly disappearing dot in the cobalt sky. He doesn’t turn his face from the horizon, even long after Tooru can no longer see the cicada. “I dunno,” Hajime says, glancing at Tooru. “I guess I just feel bad. I wouldn’t want to be trapped either.” He looks back at the sky. “Can you imagine flying? I don’t think I’d want to be in a jar if I could fly.”_

Oikawa considers the situation. Is Karasuno the jar in this metaphor? And all of its inhabitants the little cicadas that just want to be free? In that case, Oikawa has two choices: let them fly free, or keep the lid on the jar tightened until they all face a slow, agonizing suffocation.

He knows what Hajime would tell him. In front him, 8-year-old Hajime stares at him with wide eyes and impossibly thick eyebrows. “Can you imagine flying?” He asks, voice high and sweet.

No, no he can’t. But he thinks that the others in Karasuno can. And if he lets them go, they might finally be able to experience it.

“I can’t stay here, Suga-chan.”

Suga’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? Of course you can.” Oikawa gives him a look, and Suga amends his first statement. “Okay, you probably can. It might take a while, but we all know what you’ve done for us. That can’t be forgotten.”

Oikawa smiles bitterly. “I see him, you know.” Suga doesn’t need to hear who he’s talking about: he knows. He places his hand on Oikawa’s shoulder in a sign of comfort, but it only feels like a burden. “He’s everywhere here.”

“He helped build this place, too,” Suga says softly. His hand is heavy. “I see him in your shadow, sometimes,” he admits.

Oikawa looks at him with mild interest, but isn’t very surprised. Everything he’s ever done is still guided by Iwaizumi’s hand, it makes sense that Suga can still feel his presence, much like Oikawa himself does.

“I think you understand, then, why I can’t stay.”

Suga squeezes his shoulder and finally removes his hand. “Where will you go?”

Oikawa smiles wryly. “Someplace that doesn’t remind me of him.”

It’s a lie. There’s only one place he wants to go. More than anything in the entire world, Oikawa wants to go home. In order to do that, he has to see Iwaizumi one last time.

* * *

[Kuroo](https://youtu.be/pEnPq_fa8z4)

He wakes in Kenma’s arms. They’re the most familiar thing on earth. Kenma’s fingers gently smooth his hair, their bodies pressed so closely together that Kuroo can feel Kenma’s heartbeat in his own chest. It should be weird, for the smaller one of the two of them to be holding the larger one, but Kuroo thinks that he was created with Kenma’s embrace in mind. He’s immeasurably lucky that, despite everything, Kenma’s stayed by his side. It really isn’t for lack of trying, though.

Back when everything first went down, Kuroo had warned his boyfriend.

_“There’s nothing I won’t do to keep you safe.”_

And Kenma had said that he knew. But not even Kuroo had been prepared for the lengths he was willing to go (the people he was willing to kill) to keep Kenma from getting hurt.

_“I won’t apologize,” Kuroo says, eyes flickering to and from Kenma’s with a concerning frequency. There’s blood on his face and shirt and a rip in his sleeve where the man’s knife had sliced through it and into his shoulder. Blood drips delicately down his arm. “_

_Kuro,” Kenma whispers, and Kuroo kneels next to him, ready for whatever sentencing is about to come. He knows Kenma better than he knows himself, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what’s about to happen._

_Kenma quietly begins to undo Kuroo’s shirt, his fingers making quick work of the buttons before sliding the long-sleeved shirt from Kuroo’s arms while Kuroo sits there on his knees, entire body trembling. He won’t ever forget the look in the man’s eyes as he died, Kuroo’s knife in his neck, light dimming as he went. Kuroo stole that life. He dimmed that soul. He killed that man._

_“_ _Shh,” Kenma says, so gentle that a tear builds up and drops down Kuroo’s cheek in the span of a few seconds. Kenma wipes it away quickly with his thumb, then takes Kuroo’s shirt in his mouth and wets it, beginning to wipe at the blood spots on his face._

_“I won’t apologize,” he says again, voice breaking, when Kenma’s lips purse._

_“I would never ask you to,” is Kenma’s answer. Once he’s cleaned Kuroo’s face to his satisfaction, he gently cradles his cheek with his small hand. “I’m sorry you had to do that.” Kenma’s eyes are honest and all-knowing. He acknowledges Kuroo more than anyone in the entire world ever has. It’s comforting to know that even when Kuroo no longer knows himself, Kenma is there to reassure him of who he is._

_“I killed someone,” Kuroo chokes out, more tears welling up in his eyes._

_Kenma leans forward to catch Kuroo as he collapses into his boyfriend’s - best friend’s - arms. He’s taking deep and shaky breaths, determined not to make this breakdown last long. They’re not safe here, he doesn’t have time for a real mental collapse. But Kenma holds him as if they have all the time in the world to wait for him to catch his breath._

_When Kenma pulls back (it’s too soon, but any later and Kuroo never would have let go), his expression tells Kuroo everything he needs to know. Somehow, despite everything, Kenma forgives him._

_“I’m not good, Kenma. It’s better for us to split up now.” The words hurt to say, but they’re true. It’s a miracle that Kuroo hasn’t somehow poisoned Kenma with his hatred and contempt already. After over a decade of friendship, Kenma is still the same kind person he met on that cool spring day, locked in Kenma’s room with an unfamiliar video game and a boy who felt like the missing piece of his soul._

_Kenma grips his shoulders firmly, careful not to touch his injury. “You have more good in you than any other person I’ve met.” His eyes are determined. “You proved it to me the first day we met, and you’ve continued to prove it to me every day since.”_

_Oh, how Kuroo wishes that he could see himself in Kenma’s eyes, just this once. Because all he sees in himself is a monster._

These days, Kuroo embraces the monster. Being a monster keeps everyone he loves safe. It’s almost a switch at this point, something that he has no control over when it comes to turning it on, but has a grasp on flipping it off when necessary. The polar opposite of his father.

The switch turns on immediately at the sound of Kenma’s startled gasp.

“Kenma!” Bokuto’s voice raises, but a quick glance at him tells Kuroo that Bokuto, like Kenma, has a knife to his throat. In fact, everyone seems to have some weapon or another pointed at them except for Kuroo and Daishou.

A quick gauge of the situation tells him that Bokuto has a single person on him, as does Lev and Tora. Another person has a knife on Yaku and a boot on Hinata’s chest. The younger boy is struggling, but the more he struggles the harder the boot is pressed. How did they get surrounded so fast? Everything is happening too quickly to follow it completely.

“Hinata, stop!” Yaku yells. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it now?” The heavily-accented man holding both of them smirks.

“Stop baitin’, ya asshole,” another man with the same accent and - Kuroo does a double-take - the same face says to the first one.

“Daishou, are you okay?” The only man who isn’t restraining anyone asks. He has white hair and is much shorter than the rest of their captors.

“Did you do this!?” Kuroo immediately descends upon Daishou, making the other man slink back. “Let go of Kenma right now!” He shoots an icy look to the tall man holding Kenma, but the man doesn’t even flinch.

Kuroo turns back to Daishou, brandishing his knife in his face. “Start talking now, traitor!”

The white-haired man puts up a placating hand. “Let’s calm down.”

“I will _not_ calm down,” Kuroo waves his knife towards the man. The threat of harm to his friends is barely enough to keep him from lunging. “You’re holding my friends hostage.”

“Kita, you can let them go. I’m here voluntarily,” Daishou says, but Kuroo stills gives him a glare despite his support, just in case.

The white-haired man blinks. “Are you sure? We saw you with them and wanted to make sure that you weren’t being held hostage or anything.” Daishou grins. “Nah. Kuroo here isn’t my biggest fan, but we were actually on our way to Inarizaki. You guys doing something similar?”

The man, Kita, makes a gesture with his hand, and everyone is released. Hinata takes a huge gasp of air. “Yes, we’re on our way back. We’ve finished our business in Karasuno.” It means nothing to Kuroo, but Daishou nods sagely as if Kita had just told him a long and fact-filled story. He wonders what havoc they were wreaking at the community.

Kita turns to the rest of Kuroo’s group, a placating smile on his face. “Sorry about any inconvenience this may have caused.”

Kuroo turns on him violently. He barely has his mouth open before Bokuto’s hand is wrapping itself roughly around his wrist, yanking him backwards. Kuroo lets the knife fall from his hand before he accidentally stabs Bo.

“You okay, Hinata?” Lev yanks the smaller boy up. Hinata shrugs him off.

“What’s going on at Karasuno?” Hinata is still breathing a little hard, but he fearlessly walks right up to Kita and squares his little shoulders. “Is something wrong?”

Kita looks at Hinata, expressionless. “There was an uprising.”

_“Haaaaah!?”_ At Hinata’s outburst, Kita’s eyebrow twitches. “Is it bad? Did anyone get hurt? Who led it? Did you see a dark-haired guy, super angry? Is he okay? Is everyone else okay?”

Kita blinks and waits for Hinata to fizzle a little. “I believe there was some concern about the way Oikawa was running things,” he says. “Ennoshita was at the head of the uprising.”

Yaku looks interested at that. “Ennoshita? Dark hair, timid, always has a guy with a shaved head hanging off of him?” Kita nods in confirmation. “Shit,” he exhales. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”

“What’s gonna happen now?” Hinata wants to know.

Kita shrugs. “Things seemed uncertain. We left when it started to get dicey. Oikawa is the only reason we’re guaranteed safety inside of Karasuno’s walls. We didn’t want to stay much longer and push our luck, so we terminated our agreement with him and left. We were headed back to Inarizaki when we ran into you here.”

Lev looks at Yaku excitedly. “Did you hear that?! Oikawa might be gone. We can go home!”

One of the twins (Kuroo’s going to guess that they’re twins, unless they look alike due to some fantastical coincidence) cocks his head at that. “You left Karasuno because of him?”

Lev nods. “We didn’t want to risk staying.”

“Wait a minute,” Kuroo cuts in before Lev can say anything that might be used against him. “What business did you all have with Oikawa?”

“We worked with him as enforcers.” Twin 2 shrugs.

Really tall guy nods. “That’s kind of what our camp is, you know? We have skills, and people pay us in food and supplies to use those skills.”

Kenma squints at them suspiciously. “Does that mean that you were the ones enforcing Oikawa’s threats?”

Twin 1 nods, apparently unbothered. Kuroo feels unsettled. “We followed his orders, did what he asked. In return he gave us things for our group and our community. It was a good trade.”

Kuroo turns to demand answers from Kita but the quiet man is conversing with Daishou, the two of them having moved away from the main group when no one was looking.

“How could you do something like that?” Lev asks, looking hurt and baffled. “Those are people’s lives!”

Dark-haired guy with slitted eyes shrugs. “We’re all doing what we need to to survive.”

“Yeah, all of that’s in the past now,” Twin 2 grins lazily at them. “Gotta look forward, right? Lookin’ back ain’t gonna get you anywhere.”

Kuroo curls his lip. That’s not a very conducive way of thinking at all, but before he can say anything Bokuto’s tugging at his arm and looking towards Kita and Daishou. They’re walking back to the rest of the group.

“Do you all mind if we travel together for the time being?” Kita asks. “It’s safer in bigger numbers.”

“Only if you trust the other people that you’re traveling with,” Kuroo mutters darkly, but Bokuto jostles him lightly to let him know that he’s probably going to have to deal with whatever the rest of the group wants.

Bokuto’s right, of course, which is how Kuroo ends up sitting on the outskirts of their camp a few hours later and kilometers away from where they were before. There’s a small fire in front of him to keep the lookouts warm too. Kita sits next to him, having offered to keep watch as well while the rest of both of their groups goof around near the main fire. Kuroo’s glad that they’re having a good time, even if his hand refuses to loosen its grip on the knife hilt he’s so firmly grasping.

It’s times like this that make him miss Daichi. The dark-haired man’s steady percipience was reliable and comforting. Kenma’s the sun that helps him grow, and Daichi’s the dirt that keeps him grounded, and without that anchor Kuroo feels a bit lost. Daichi would know what to do. He’d know who to trust, be able to lead them through this odd happenstance with Kuroo on one shoulder and Bokuto on the other, playing angel and devil. But his friend isn’t here, and Kuroo hopes that he hasn't made a mistake letting the Inarizaki group stay with them.

The silence is a bit unsettling after a while, though, and Kuroo breaks it against his better judgement.

“Do you only look ahead, too?” Kuroo asks, and Kita sends him a strange look.

“What?”

Kuroo chuckles, kicking one of the sticks back into the fire. “Your group is pretty dead set on looking ahead,” he says. “I was wondering if you’re the same.”

Kita’s eyes soften, the expression odd on his impassive face. “I don’t share the same ideals,” he finally says. “Someone has to watch our backs, after all.”

Kuroo takes a breath and looks out at their intermingled groups. One of the twins, he doesn’t know the difference between them, ruffles Hinata’s hair and laughs good-naturedly at his protesting squawk. Bokuto is laughing heartily at their antics. The really tall one with shaved hair is having a quiet conversation with Kenma, while Daishou and Lev tease the other twin and another tall one with flippy hair, Sooma or something or other. Kuroo is eternally grateful for Tora, who hasn’t put down his slingshot for anything, and Yaku, who sits close enough to provide support to both Kuroo and the rest of their group. Even though at this point he doesn’t think that Kita’s group will do anything, they can’t afford to put their guard down.

“He’s not doing well, is he?” Kita’s gaze is on Bokuto, who is now trying to lift the twin as Hinata eggs them on.

Kuroo snaps his gaze to Kita, surprised. Kita seems to know what he’s thinking.

“We all wear loss differently. But I can see it as clear as anything in him. The way to survive is to take it one day at a time. To move forward and focus on that movement.” Kita’s eyes are bright and intelligent, and not for the first time Kuroo is wary of him. “He’s only moving in the past.”

Kuroo sighs. “I think Akaashi is dead,” is what he finally says. He hasn’t voiced it to anyone: not Kenma, not Yaku, and definitely not Bokuto. Hell, he hasn’t voiced it to himself, even. It’s a thought that stays locked in his head, far from where Bokuto can hear it. But here, with another person who seems to understand and who has no weight in their struggle, he can be truthful. “He’s the person we’re out here looking for. The whole reason we aren’t still at Karasuno.”

“I see.” Kita doesn’t ask why Kuroo thinks this. He doesn’t need to. “I guess I wonder then, why are you still looking?”

Kuroo lets out a breath slowly. The fire is mesmerizing in its beauty. There are few things left that are beautiful in this world. Kenma. A sunrise. A bright fire that burns and burns and burns, long after it should.

“Because Bokuto is a fire,” he answers, “and I refuse to let him burn out.”

In the morning, Hinata leaves.

“If Karasuno really is struggling, I have to do whatever I can to help,” he says determinedly, that familiar fire in his eyes as he tells them of his plans.

“You’re fifteen, Hinata. Are you sure you can get there alone?” Kuroo looks at him worriedly.

“Sixteen!” The small boy squawks in protest. Sixteen. Kuroo remembers what it was like to be sixteen. The entire world was against him when he was sixteen. Emotions were bubbling too close to the surface. At sixteen, he learned to shut down in order to minimize the pain of feeling.

“He won’t be alone,” one of the twins - the one with the mischievous smirk - steps forward. “‘Samu and I got business at Shiratorizawa, so we’ll see to it that he makes it to Karasuno’s gates ‘fore we head west.”

So they watch Hinata and the twins walk away, in the opposite direction of Inarizaki.

“They’ll be alright,” Yaku sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

Kuroo can’t stop the pit of unease growing in his stomach, the one that started back when they ran into Iwaizumi and his troupe. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he doesn’t like Hinata going off on his own. He can only hope that their judgement regarding Kita’s group is correct, and they really don’t want to cause undeserved harm to the rest of them.

“Let’s go,” Kuroo hears himself say. They can’t stand here and watch Hinata disappear into the horizon for much longer. He might just do something stupid, like demand him to come back. And with that, they move further from Hinata and Karasuno, but hopefully closer to Akaashi.

* * *

[Akaashi](https://youtu.be/9XaS93WMRQQ)

“Is there actually a chance at a vaccine?” Keiji asks as he places the row of agar plates on the lab table next to Sarukui. The taller man grabs one carefully and sets it under the microscope, removing the glass lid with the care of someone disarming a bomb.

From across the room, Shibayama snorts, but says nothing.

Sarukui leans back from the microscope, his face thoughtful but far away. “That’s a hard question.”

Keiji purses his lips. “Well, would a vaccine be able to stop the virus?”

Sarukui chews on his cheek. “Well. You know how we all turn when we die, no matter what?” Keiji nods. “That indicates that the virus is inside all of us, but it only activates once we die or once it interacts with more of the active virus. That’s why we also turn into zombies when our bloodstream makes contact with undead saliva and blood.”

Keiji must be giving him a very obvious blank stare, because Goshiki takes pity on him. “What that means is that there’s essentially no way for us to create a vaccine in the traditional sense, since we all have this virus inside of us already.”

“Right, and vaccines are only used to teach our bodies how to fight viruses,” Keiji draws on the definitions Shirabu made him learn.

“Exactly. So what we would be creating is some kind of counteracting vaccine that doesn’t work like traditional vaccines. Instead, it would target zombie cells or the virus or mutation or whatever that causes the dead to come back to life and hopefully kill whatever is happening.” Goshiki nods once, then turns back to his own microscope.

“The reason it’s a hard question to answer,” Sarukui takes over again, “is that we still don’t know exactly how this virus is attacking the human body. Once we can determine what ways this zombie virus affects us, and why it only activates under specific circumstances, then we can take the right course of action to counteract it.”

“So...you’re just doing research, then?” And not making a vaccine? This is all confusing.

Fukunaga gives him the most deadpan look, one that says, _“Are you an idiot?”_ loud and clear. “We’re researchers, Akaashi. The fuck you think we’ve been doing?”

He doesn’t know. _Science?_

He’s feeling a little defensive now, though the other scientists merely laugh in good humor. “Well, are you any closer to understanding anything?”

That makes them all quiet down a bit, and Keiji feels bad for wiping the smiles from their faces.

“Ask again,” Shirabu finally breaks the silence.

“Huh?”

“Ask your question about the vaccine again.”

Keiji looks at him strangely. “Is there any chance at a vaccine?”

Shirabu looks him dead in the eye, something he only does when he wants to intimidate. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think that there was hope.”

It’s an understatement to say that Keiji is shocked when Tendou approaches him. He knows that the tall, red-haired man is close to Ushijima (too close, he’d heard), and that he supports the farmers wholeheartedly. But as much as he’s heard about Tendou, he’s never had the other man approach him.

“Akaashi-san,” he says easily, the smile on his face unworried.

“Tendou-san,” Keiji nods. “What can I do for you?”

His eyes are alight with curiosity. “Are you aware that we have some allies staying with us?”

Keiji’s thoughts immediately go to the man banging on the gate, his exhausted yell, Futakuchi’s comments about a group that threatened him. “The ones in the hospital?” He asks.

“Exactly.” Tendou’s gaze somehow grows even more interested. “Their leader has shown quite an interest in you.”

“Has he?” Keiji is careful to keep his voice controlled. What might the leader of a random wandering group want with him? An irrational fear clenches his chest, one that warns him that somehow, someway, this leader has figured out his secret and is going to blackmail him into doing favors for them in exchange for their silence. He wants to scream in frustration; he’s just decided that a life here might not be so bad, why is this leader barreling in to mess things up for him? He still has to talk some sense into his friends before they burn Shiratorizawa to the ground.

“He wants to talk to you,” Tendou says carefully, apparently noticing Keiji’s inner turmoil. “But as a favor to Aone, I told him I’d ask you first.”

He’s surprised by that. He wonders why Tendou might owe Aone. He can’t fathom what the quiet man has done to earn a favor from the lover and favored advisor of their community’s leader. “Do you know what he wants to speak about?”

“He hasn’t said.” Tendou is standing poised, interest almost painful in his expression. There’s no judgement in his gaze, and Keiji knows that he won’t care whether or not Keiji talks to this leader.

Keiji nods. “Fine. Where can I find him?”

Tendou looks pleased by the turn of events. “Hospital lobby,” he says. “If there’s any trouble, you let me know, yeah? I wouldn’t mind having you owe me a favor.”

Keiji swallows and nods before brushing past the smiling man. He has to suppress a shudder when he can still feel Tendou’s eyes on him as he walks towards the hospital entrance. He has a feeling Tendou could probably rain hell upon him if he so wished it, and he finds himself hoping that he never owes the other man a favor.

The hospital looms larger than usual, but not as large as the first week he lived there. He forces himself to calm down. There’s a chance, however small, that this won’t be a threat. His mind whispers to him traitorously, reminding him that it can never be that easy.

This leader undoubtedly wants something from him. He prepares to give whatever he needs to in order to keep the peace.

Keiji pushes through the doors of the hospital, entering through the front for the first time. He’s almost afraid that he won’t know where to go, but the lobby is waiting for him when he walks in, and in it is a man with wide shoulders and serious eyes.

He’s been waiting.

Keiji has never been one to take control of a situation, so he stays silent as he ventures further into the lobby.

“Are you Akaashi-san?” The man asks.

“Yes. Why did you ask me here?”

The man cocks his head as he assesses him. Keiji feels naked. His skin crawls. The silence drags on too long.

“I’m at a disadvantage,” he says like he’s seen in movies, “I don’t know who you are.”

“I guess you could say that I’m an acquaintance.”

“Funny,” Keiji says, finally losing his patience, he’s surprised it’s lasted this long, “I’ve never met you before. Mind getting to the point? I have more important things to do than stand here and wonder at your purpose for calling me here.”

The man cracks a grin, small but amused. “He didn’t say that you were so feisty.”

That gets his attention. “Who?”

The man shrugs. “I don’t remember his name. But I remember yours. I said I’d keep an eye out for you, Akaashi Keiji, and here you are.”

Keiji’s breath catches in his throat. “Was it a man with white hair, black streaks? Light eyes?” Bokuto. Bokuto. It has to be him. Only Bokuto knows his first name.

The man hums. “I think he was with the man I was talking to. I talked to a tall guy, dark, crazy hair?”

Kuroo-san.

“When did you talk to them? Where? Are they okay?” Keiji advances on the man. “Please tell me they’re okay.”

The amused half-smile hasn’t left the man’s face. “When I last talked to them a few weeks ago they seemed fine. They were headed south, last I saw. They’re looking for you.”

Bokuto’s looking for him. Hope rises in his chest. Bokuto’s out there, trying to find him.

As immediate as the hope arrives, it flees. Oh gods, Bokuto is traversing around Tokyo looking for him. Who knows what kinds of dangers he might be getting himself into? Keiji’s been stuck behind the walls of Shiratorizawa for the past six or so months, he has no clue what the outside world is like. Is it worse than before? Better? More or less dangerous?

“If you don’t mind me asking, they mentioned a few things to me that I was wondering about.”

Keiji blinks from his panicking, returning to the moment. “Like what?”

“They mentioned they were looking for you. If you want, I can make sure they never find out that you’re here.”

Keiji’s eyes widen. This guy thinks… “No! No, please. If you see them, please tell them that I’m here.” The idea that Bokuto and the others are a threat to him is laughable. Unthinkable.

“Why is it that they’re looking for you, then?”

Apparently Kuroo hadn’t told this guy much. Keiji doesn’t want to give too much away, either. Knowledge is power, after all. “I was part of a deal made between Karasuno and Shiratorizawa. My skills are needed here, but the people that are looking for me weren’t aware of where I was being sent. Do you have a meetup place with them?”

The man shakes his head. “If we run into them again, we’ll let them know that you’re here.”

Keiji presses his lips together tightly. “Thank you."

A small pause. Unsure. “You...were at Karasuno?” Keiji nods. The other man looks like he wants to ask more, but he stops himself, nods, and turns away. “I have to ready my group to leave. Good luck, Akaashi Keiji.”

He walks past Keiji to leave, and Keiji watches him go, almost like a retreat, his body frozen in disbelief.

He bites back the sudden onset of tears that threaten to spill over. He lets out a loud, hiccuped sob of relief, holding a hand tightly over his mouth and sinking into one of the lobby chairs.

Bokuto is alive. Bokuto is looking for him. _Bokuto is alive!_

Keiji drags in a desperate breath, the exhale shaky before he devolves into another sob, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shake uncontrollably with his silent cries. He’s never felt relief like this before, like his heart is soaring, propelled by dreams and all of the sleepless nights he spent worrying and praying and _hoping_.

He’s so obsessed with this feeling, this knowledge that Bokuto, at some point, was alive and looking for him, that he doesn’t realize that someone is standing behind him until there’s a hand on his shoulder. He startles visibly, gasping and jumping in his seat as he whirls around to face the newcomer.

It’s Tendou, eyes wide, hands up in surrender. He looks just as startled as Keiji feels. “Sorry! Sorry, I thought you heard me.”

Right. Because only a few people know that his hearing has diminished to maybe 20% of what it used to be. It’s imperative that he keeps it that way. Ushijima might have been lenient about his vertigo spells, but deafness? That might get him kicked out for good.

“It’s fine,” Keiji clears his throat and wipes at his face, standing as he does so. Now isn’t the time to fall apart. Bokuto is alive, and now Keiji has to stay that way, too. “What do you need, Tendou-san?”

Tendou’s grin is gone, which is worrying in itself. The man is usually never seen without some sort of mischievous smirk or joyful expression on his face.

Keiji’s heart drops. What now?

“The scientists got approved for another month with the engineers.”

Oh. Fuck. This will make for their third month in a row, and the farmers are not going to be happy. Keiji’s mind flashes to conversations with Aone about their new greenhouses and the lights they needed to install for a few of them to work. He remembers the tiller that Kogane’s been working on but unable to completely fix, the tractor engine that Mai’s been tinkering with, the irrigation that Futakuchi’s been agonizing over for this upcoming farming season.

Yeah, this isn’t going to go over well.

“Did Ushijima-san tell them?” Keiji asks.

Tendou nods. “That’s why I’m here. Futakuchi and his group are rallying inside the cafeteria. I respect Toshi, Akaashi-san, but he’s not skilled at conflict management. Much too blunt.” Tendou shakes his head. “This might end very badly.”

“And you need me on crowd control.”

He presses his lips together. “Could you?”

Keiji sighs, wondering when he became everyone’s go-to mediator. He liked it better when no one knew him and the scientists kept him locked away in the hospital for four months straight. He comes to the sudden realization that he did this to himself by sticking his nose in everyone’s business, back when he was dead set on bringing Shiratorizawa to its knees.

Who would’ve thought that he’d also be the one tasked with holding it up?

He sets his shoulders. “Alright. Whenever you’re ready, Tendou-san.”

Tendou’s expression is somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “I’m following you, Akaashi-san.”

And isn’t that a scary thought?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi's poor heart, everyone at Shiratorizawa seems to take joy from inadvertently freaking him out.
> 
> Straight to the fun facts bc they're long today!  
> \- Kuroo was almost a villain! I had this whole protagonist-to-antagonist arc created for him where he is the reflection of Oikawa but then I ultimately decided not to go through with it because of my absolute adoration for KuroKen. 
> 
> \- This chapter marked my google doc of “End of Everything” officially passing 100 pages. Big oof. Any control I thought I had over this story is a complete illusion. 
> 
> \- I almost put Akaashi on trial in this chapter! I was going to end Chapter 4 a lot differently for him, and if I had then this would have been his trial! Instead, I decided that the conflict between the farmers and scientists needed to escalate - Akaashi’s trial would have united those two groups too much, rather than alienate them! 
> 
> \- An actual interaction that happened between Kita @ the Miya twins:  
>  **Kita:** “Oh my god, that’s the zombie that killed half our squad! Yes, I’m gonna fucking kill it — Oh. Sorry. Didn’t see you there?”  
>  **Twins:** “omfg thank you thank you for saving our lives thank you you have or undying loyalty”  
>  **Kita:** “You’ve been thanking me for about twenty minutes for “saving your life”. Honestly, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your life, I just needed to unleash my anger. I would’ve happily let you die if I’d known you’d both be so annoying about it.”


	7. Boss Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! *glances at the updated chapter count. Whistles and kicks dirt as I pretend that nothing has happened*
> 
> Yeah yeah yeah, so maybe I upped the chapter count so I could add this interlude. Sorry ‘bout it, but I hope this answers some questions.
> 
> Also I wanted to thank everyone who has ever left a comment on this fic! It’s hard for me to keep everything in the story moving forward since this is an ongoing work and has a ton of characters, so hearing about what you all are excited, worried, and interested about has been _so helpful._ Thank you!!! 
> 
> Shorter chapter today, since it’s only an interlude. [song.](https://youtu.be/FcO8uV2n3Ys)
> 
> cw in the end notes.  
> Un-beta’d, enjoy!

The sky was turning a brilliant shade of pink when they heard the man screaming.

Tooru was in one of his states, barely able to respond to outside stimuli, so Hajime firmly clamped his hand over Tooru’s wrist as he moved towards the sound.

 _“Help!”_ The man’s dying screams echoed around the buildings. He was lying on the street, limbs struggling sluggishly. Two rotters snacked on him like he was nothing but a piece of roadkill, the undead vultures. His blood gushed onto the road, and his eyes met Hajime’s as the light in them dimmed.

Hajime swallowed a mouthful of sick as he stared at the scene, unable to tear his eyes away. Tooru’s wrist in his hand felt clammy and thin. His head felt like it was somewhere in the clouds. He wondered if this was what it felt like when Tooru went to some other reality. “Boss!”

He turns his head and the pinkness of the sky disappears, only to see Watari standing there on the roof with him, the concern open on his face. “Hey. Uh, Kindaichi and Yahaba were hoping to scavenge, but Kyoutani won’t let Yahaba go without your permission.”

Right. Yahaba’s still recovering, no matter how much the wide-eyed man wanted to deny it.

“Send Kyoutani with them, and tell Yahaba to take it easy. No longer than an hour, okay?”

“I’ll let them know.” Watari hesitates. “Boss, you okay?”

His group is used to him getting stuck in his head and being more quiet than not, but Watari’s always been a bit more perceptive. “I’ll be fine,” he says. As he says it, an explosion goes off in his ear, and he turns back out to face the cityscape.

Another man, this one dead but not reanimated, was splayed on the side of the road. Hajime was no stranger to dead bodies, but he was never able to look away. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds. Flies swarmed the dead man’s orifices. He was fresh, but his skull was crushed. It looked like he had never had the chance to turn. This new world wasn’t kind to humans, but insects were thriving, eating every unliving thing they could. A never-ending buffet of human remains that haunted Hajime’s mind, still burned into his vision even when he closed his eyes.

“Tooru, come on,” he tugged on Tooru’s arm. The taller man stumbled forward, his eyes haunted and blank. He had been coherent earlier in the morning, but obviously that time was up. Hajime dragged him along as they picked their way through the car-jammed streets of Tokyo, heading east. Home. If they could get home, everything might be okay. Hajime held onto that thought, chasing away visions of bodies as they moved.

The explosions were still going off, somewhere far off but not so far off that they weren’t shaking the ground a little. Hajime wondered idly at what they could be, but didn’t dare stick around to find out. The sound would undoubtedly bring more rotters, and that was the last thing they needed right now.

He blinks, and he’s back on the roof. Watari is walking away, climbing down to tell Yahaba and Kyoutani and Kindaichi that they can go on their scavenging trip. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to ground himself. He knows he’s not well. He knows his mind is constantly wandering in ways it never did before. He sees dead people, the ones that littered the streets back when he and Tooru were making their way around Tokyo, and they stand in front of him and have conversations with his conscious self.

His past wants his present. It clings to it, unable to let him go.

He wonders what could be wrong with him. He wonders if anyone else is struggling like this, too.

Do they see the people they left behind? The ones that were left behind by others? The forgotten? The despaired? The dead?

“We can’t stay here!” Akira, a girl from one of his classes, said to him. Her eyes held an urgency that her body mimicked, vibrating out of itself in her haste to leave.

Hajime ran after her, Tooru hot on his heels as they desperately navigated the halls of the university. Tooru’s breath was hot on the back of his neck, Akira’s pink t-shirt the only thing his eyes could focus on as they followed her through the hallways.

Tooru let out a scream, and Hajime abruptly stopped and turned, his heart halting in his chest when he saw a child - no, a rotter - hanging onto Tooru’s arm. He didn’t even think, he was lunging at the kid, he was slamming its head into the ground, he was crying as its brains seeped through his fingers, he was wrenching its hand from where it was clasped onto his pant leg, he was slapping Tooru’s face to check for signs of life, he was rolling up his sleeves and praying that there weren’t any marks or blood.

The child’s eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling as its own blood and brains were scattered above its head like a halo. The child had dark hair and dark eyes, pale skin, blood lining its lips. A little girl, if the day dress and the longer hair was anything to go by. Why was there a little girl in a university?

Boss sees the little girl. She plays hide and seek among the cars and the buildings of Tokyo, her giggle a stark contrast to the rasp of her dying breaths. Her dress is unstained by blood when Boss sees her, her face is alight with a smile. He turns to give an order to Mattsun and she’s hiding her face in his pant leg. He hands out Kunimi’s rations to him and she’s doing a cartwheel a few yards away.

She’s unmarked, beautiful, pure, maybe 10. Boss looks down at his hands and they’re covered in her blood. He looks back up and she’s gone, his hands are clean, he wonders if he even killed her at all, until he sees movement out of the corner of his eyes and notices the man who was being picked at like roadkill. His eyes are blank, unseeing, filmed over.

“What do you think, Hajime?” He asks. Boss blinks at him. He’s not Hajime anymore. He doesn’t know what the corpse is asking him. The corpse seems to know what he’s thinking, because it laughs. “This is a much happier ending, is it not?”

He shakes his head, because he has no idea what the corpse is talking about. He climbs down from the roof and walks out of the building, Makki’s voice following him, but he can’t be in there with that corpse. How can the rest of them stand it?

Maybe they don’t see it. Boss isn’t even sure that he saw it.

“Iwaizumi!” Suga grinned at him, here to greet him outside after he left his troupe inside.

“What do you need?” Iwaizumi asked. Suga is nice, but he always needs something.

“Has Oikawa talked with you about Shiratorizawa?” Suga asked.

“Who?” Iwaizumi could feel his temper rising already. He didn’t understand: there’s no reason for him to be angry, yet he was. He was always angry, those days, at everything. At Suga, for always asking him questions. At Ukai Ikkei, for dying. At the old man’s grandson, for not doing enough.

“Shiratorizawa. They’re a community like us, only about a thirty minute walk from here.”

More organized communities. It likely meant that they’d have to deal with them in one way or another. The thought made him tired.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Iwaizumi turned away. Suga said something else, but he was done with the conversation. Hopefully that wouldn’t come back to bite him later.

He walked through their compound, scoffing lightly at some of the things he saw. Hinata and Kageyama bickering lightly, Tanaka and Ennoshita stealing kisses, one of the younger kids squealing with laughter. It wasn’t that he hated their compound, no. He might have even loved it. But everything in Karasuno moved in slow motion. It was so unlike the lightning fast world outside the walls, where imminent danger threatened every second.

Outside the walls, he was busy. He was alert and able to focus on the task at hand. There, inside the walls, he had too much time to himself. His mind filled with the dead, of Tooru’s blank stare, of the little girl who grinned at him with missing teeth.

It filled him with an unfounded rage when he would see the members of Karasuno easily living their lives, unburdened, doling out meals or teasing each other about the way they decorated their weapons or laughing about something or other. They would ask Iwaizumi, “How many have you killed?” They would ask him about his weapon of choice. These are normal questions, things that everyone has rational answers to, but they were also questions that made him want to spit in their faces.

 _“I’ve killed hundreds,”_ he longed to say, _“and an innumerable amount of humans, too. Does that scare you?"_ He wondered what their reactions would be if that was his response. Instead he would change the subject, move away, find an excuse to never answer. He doesn’t know how many he’s killed. The truth is, he lost track after the first few. His main concern, as it always had been, was keeping Tooru safe. He was barely doing that anymore.

“You sure you’re okay?” Kunimi is standing behind him, Karasuno melting away to show the front of the grocery store they’re currently holed up in. Kunimi’s too-clever eyes study him carefully. “You...you’ve been going somewhere else a lot more, recently. Ever since we ran into that group a few weeks ago.”

How does he say it? _I see all of the people I’ve killed in my dreams, and they follow me into wakefulness._

_I think that there’s only so much one person can endure, and I might have hit my breaking point a long time ago._

_I don’t know how to do anything except keep taking another step forward. I’m afraid that if I stop stepping forward, I’ll kill myself._

_I don’t know how to ask if you feel like this, too._

“I’m fine, Kunimi. I only need a moment.” He turns away in an obvious dismissal.

The Karasuno group. They brought nightmares with them when they showed up in that shoe factory unannounced. They came bearing memories that Boss would much rather leave untouched. He wishes he could forget. Kunimi might still be standing behind him when Karasuno appears again in front of him, the buildings familiar and the air uneasy.

It seemed that Oikawa was happy being unhappy.

They fought constantly, about a lot of things. Oikawa had the erraticness of the outside, his mind constantly working at the same speed Iwaizumi’s was to find new ways to improve Karasuno and to make the most of its inhabitants. That erraticness was appreciated, often a source of comfort in the stagnant atmosphere of Karasuno, but it seemed like they were still so out of synch, so far from the rhythm they had on the outside.

The fights were always about different things. They always seemed to end the same. Oikawa stopped listening. Iwaizumi lashed out physically. Oikawa would cry. Iwaizumi would cry. Sometimes they made up right then and there, other times it took them days to even look at each other again.

Oikawa seemed to know that something was wrong. After Iwaizumi hit him he would stare at his hands in horror and immediately start apologizing. On good days, Oikawa would cradle Iwaizumi’s hands gently in his own and kiss his knuckles, then hold him tightly and whisper, _“I forgive you Hajime, it’s not your fault.”_ On bad days, Oikawa would scream at him, throwing objects until one of them stormed off. On the worst days, Oikawa would shut down, his eyes growing blank. Iwaizumi would fall to his knees in front of him, then, holding Oikawa’s face in his hands as he whispered apologies and loathed himself.

Hajime. Oikawa rarely called him Hajime outside of their rose-tinted childhood years, and every whispered syllable echoed like a blessing, He had turned into "Iwa-chan" during their middle school years, after Tooru had kissed him on the cheek and they became more unsure around each other. A friendship with uncrossed t's and undotted i's, it felt like they were both playing out a script that they didn't know the lines to. When they entered high school, a deadly duo with sharp wit and a careful distance between them as they walked, they thought that they had it down. Friends. Best friends. All they had been and all they ever would be. The title of their relationship didn't hide the lingering looks or touches and, eventually, the stolen kisses and pleasured moans shared between them in the darkness of Iwaizumi's childhood bedroom. 

Tooru has asked if Iwaizumi loved him. Iwaizumi had stuttered. Was it love, or convenience? Were they always supposed to be together because they always had been? 

They graduated, and followed each other to the same university. Despite the unsureness of their relationship, being apart felt like an immediate death. Iwaizumi had girlfriends, Oikawa had flings, life went on. And then it didn't. And in this new, awful world, Oikawa was the only familiar thing. Is it love, to cling so desperately to something only because it reminds you of home? Is it love, to want to never forget the familiarity of life before? Is it love, to selfishly hold onto someone despite causing them years of pain? Iwaizumi had known, even then, how much his presence hurt Tooru. He had known, even then, how it would've killed them to separate just as much as it killed them to stay together. So, selfishly, he stayed. And he was right. It had killed them. 

He wasn’t good for anyone, in that way. All he did was hurt the people he loved.

Something in him had broken, he thinks, in those months before Karasuno was safe and Tooru was more stable. The terrible things he did - _the little girl smiles at him, she’s missing her front tooth_ \- and the horrors he saw - _the man on the road stares at him, eyes blank_ \- ruined his mind.

Every day, he longed to be back outside the walls. He told Oikawa.

“Can we go back?” He asked.

“Back to what? There was nothing before this,” Oikawa responded, eyes squinted in confusion.

Nothing. That’s what he called it. The weeks of fighting for their lives. Nothing. The time spent wishing Tooru would blink and actually be behind his eyes. Nothing. The massacres Hajime was forced to endure as he fought for nothing but the right to survive.

To Oikawa, it was nothing. A month of Hell. To Iwaizumi, it was everything. He wondered if, maybe, he was the one who was wrong. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was stuck living the past that he thought was everything, but was in fact nothing. Did that make him broken?

He was unfixable.

He _is_ unfixable.

Somehow, the rest of his troupe is too. How he managed to find a group of mild-mannered sociopaths with the same general ideals as himself, he doesn’t know. Luck. Karma, maybe. But they had found him at his lowest, fixing for a fight, and they had given him one.

Now, Boss looks back fondly on their first meeting. Makki taunting him, Mattsun and Kunimi watching silently with their hands on their weapons, Kindaichi attacking him recklessly, Watari attacking him more carefully. Even half-crazed he had managed to hold his own, and once the anger had left him, they had offered him a spot in their ranks.

“What’s your name, Tiger?” Makki leaned in closely, making his skin crawl. Behind him, the little girl giggled and tugged at pant legs.

“Doesn’t matter.”

It didn't. Whether he was Hajime, Iwaizumi, or Boss, it made no difference.

He would be dead and forgotten someday.

They all would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We’ve seen their time before Karasuno from Oikawa’s POV, now we get it from Iwaizumi’s. I hope it answers a few questions (I know it answered mine, lol). 
> 
> **CW:** There is no sugar-coating it: Iwaizumi has PTSD. Life inside the walls was unbearable, so he went back to the triggering environment that his mind was stuck in. This is similar to how some undiagnosed combat vets may reenlist in active duty because civilian life is too difficult to navigate. This is not a good coping mechanism. It is also the only one Iwaizumi knows. 
> 
> This chapter is not a justification of Iwaizumi’s actions btw!! He physically abused Oikawa and abandoned him when he was emotionally vulnerable!! Obviously I don’t need to go into why these actions are wrong!! But I hope he makes a bit more sense now :D
> 
> One (Fun) Fact today:  
> \- Quote that i based Iwaizumi on:  
> “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story” - Richard Siken
> 
> See you all next week :)


	8. something to rely on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been neglecting DaiSuga so much this entire fic so as a treat to myself and to all of you I’ve shoved as much as possible (which is still a depressingly small amount) into this chapter lol. I also finished writing this 5 mins ago and I've done a lot of prelim revising but sorry for any remaining mistakes!
> 
> Okay so this chapter is weird in that Suga’s POV is 4k+ and in an effort to finish this chapter in time, the other POVs are a bit shorter (I also didn’t want to go far over 8k for the chapter as a whole, lol). 
> 
> Also, my classes are picking up considerably and I have a few research papers, presentations, and case briefs due in quick succession, so next chapter may or may not be a little late. Please just be patient with me, I promise I’ll get it out as soon as I can :) Thank you all again for your support!
> 
> Un-beta’d!

* * *

[Suga](https://youtu.be/UqX6GZ2nz88)  


Oikawa is gone. It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. 

What doesn’t surprise him is Ennoshita’s barely-muffled muttering of, “Good riddance,” followed by the dark-haired man collapsing into Tanaka’s arms with relief. Tanaka is murmuring something sweet and soft into his ear, but Suga isn’t interested in hearing it. 

Oikawa’s been gone for a few days, and if it weren’t for the wounds he left behind it might almost be like he never existed in the first place.

“Uh, Suga? I think that those pants are cleaned,” Daichi’s voice breaks through the air, jolting him into the present even better than the icy water on his hands. He looks down and sees that if he scrubs these pants and more they’re likely to fall apart in his grip, so he lifts them from the water, wrings them out, and then hands them to Daichi who finagles them onto a drying line. 

Daichi lasts a few more seconds before he breaks the silence again. “You doing okay?” 

Suga gives him a wry smile. “Just fine.” 

Daichi frowns. “You don’t have to lie to me. Everyone else, fine. You don’t owe them anything. But please don’t shut me out.” 

Suga finishes up with the last shirt, wringing it out before hanging it up himself. The water in their washbucket is brown from the grime of their laundry day. Once the shirt is hung, he moves so that he’s pressed up next to Daichi, sitting on the floor of the med bay with him. Daichi wraps his arm around Suga’s shoulders, and Suga sinks into him, letting his head fall half into Daichi’s neck, half onto his chest. 

“We don’t know if the search group is even alive. Oikawa is gone. Ukai is withdrawing. We haven’t had a new recruit in months. I’m afraid we won’t have enough food to make it through the rest of this long fucking winter. The cold lasts for months on end now, I don’t even know when we can farm again outside of the greenhouses. If the winters keep lasting like this, we need more greenhouses. And clothes. And members. What about medical supplies? We’re always low on those, and I’m not sure how to open up trade with Shiratorizawa again.” 

“You worry too much,” Daichi murmurs to him. His hand is tight on Suga’s bicep, as if he’s afraid that Suga might just drift away on a cloud of his own stresses if he doesn’t hold him close enough. 

“If I don’t worry, who will?” 

“I think you should save some for the rest of us.” 

Suga lifts his head to look at Daichi. “Save some worry for the rest of you?” The smile that plays at his lips is mirrored on Daichi’s face. 

“Exactly. Without Kuroo and Bokuto here, I know that I have a little extra worry to spare. And Tanaka could stand to worry a bit more, too.” 

Suga laughs, and Daichi laughs with him, seemingly relieved that they’re able to joke around. 

“What’s so funny you two?” Yachi walks into the med bay, smiling good-naturedly at them. 

Suga waves a hand around in the air. “Nothing much, Daichi’s just being ridiculous.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Daichi-san being ridiculous,” Yamaguchi follows behind her. 

“Well then you’ve obviously never spent a prolonged amount of time with him,” Suga teases.

“Hey!” Daichi jokingly pouts. It doesn’t last long, and he turns to Yamaguchi. “How have the greenhouses been doing?” 

“Much better!” Yamaguchi grins.

“What happened to the greenhouses?” Suga asks, looking between Daichi and Yamaguchi. He hadn’t been told of any problems with the greenhouses, which surprised him: the greenhouses were integral to their survival because of the food they produced when it wasn’t warm enough 

Yamaguchi waves a hand dismissively, but his face pinkens at the sudden attention. “Oh, just a few structural problems with two of them. We fixed it before it killed anything, thanks to Daichi’s extra rounds that he started doing to check in with the crops.” 

Suga lays his head back down on Daichi’s shoulder gratefully. “Thank you for doing that.” 

“Like I said, leave some worrying for the rest of us.” 

“By the way,” Yamaguchi says, “Kinoshita wanted me to ask around to see if anyone had anything on their ‘wants’ list for the next scavenging trip? They’ll be going out tomorrow for a long one.” Again, Suga isn’t aware that the scavengers had planned another trip, but he supposed they were able to plan those themselves just fine. 

“Nothing that I can think of off the top of my head. Make sure they ask the wall sentries though, I think I remember some of them mentioning new projectiles that they had thought up,” Suga says. 

“If they see any velcro shoes, I wouldn’t turn them away,” Daichi grins sheepishly. Yamaguchi merely nods. 

“Got it! I’ll let him know and check with the wall sentries. See you guys!” And with that Yamaguchi is gone.

“Velcro shoes?” Suga lifts his head again to crane his neck to see Daichi’s expression. 

Daichi chuckles. “It’s a little demeaning to make you tie my shoes every day, Suga. Not that I don’t appreciate it! It’s just...well, it would be nice to do some things by myself again, you know?” 

It’s true that Suga helps Daichi with a lot of things that were likely easier for him before he lost his arm. Things like tying his shoes, pulling up his pants, brushing his teeth (Suga usually puts the toothpaste on for him), carrying things, scribbling notes, and unscrewing jars and water bottles are made near-impossible. Suga hadn’t realized, though, how frustrated Daichi’s been about his inability to do everything the same way he could before they had to amputate his arm. 

“Of course,” Suga says instead. “It won’t always be this hard, you know.” 

A puff of hot air hits his head as Daichi huffs a small laugh through his nose. “I hope not.”

“Oh, Suga-san?” Yachi politely interrupts. “I think Takeda-sensei wanted to speak with you.” 

Suga knew the peaceful moment with Daichi couldn’t last, but he had hoped for a little longer. He sighs and stands, smiling gratefully at Yachi. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

“His office!” 

“Thanks, Yacchan,” he squeezes her shoulder before placing a kiss on Daichi’s head. “I’ll see you later?” 

Daichi just grins and waves his hand at him in a shooing motion. “Go do leader stuff! I should probably check on the plants today anyways. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Not even thirty minutes later, Suga is leaving Takeda’s office with anxiety gnawing at his stomach and a slight stress headache. He had just finished walking Suga through all of the things that he and Ukai did for the community, and then the behind-the-scenes sort of things Oikawa did, and now Suga was expected to do. 

And it was not a quick trip grocery list of things, either.

It’s too much for one person. How is Suga supposed to set the wall schedule, monitor the scavenging groups, maintain the wall integrity, vet new members, speak with outside groups, ration the food every week, check in with the farmers and engineers…. It’s too much for one person. Suga is suddenly realizing why Oikawa might have cracked under the pressure. 

“Suga?” Ennoshita’s voice rips him from his internal panicking, and he looks up to see both Ennoshita and Tanaka looking at him worriedly. He supposes he was just standing and staring at their wall in contemplation. “I heard that you had a talk with Takeda. How did that go?”

Suga shakes his head in disbelief. “Why did you ever think I would be good for this job? There’s too much to do, and no way I can do it.”

“Suga, you’re more capable than anyone in--”

“You can’t expect me to do all of this by myself,” Suga interrupts and blinks at his friends in disbelief. “I’m not even halfway competent enough to run this entire place by myself, and frankly I don’t think it’s fair-”

“Don’t worry, Suga-san,” Tanaka gives him a downright terrifying grin that does nothing to soothe his worries. “We never said you’d be doing this alone.” He points both of his thumbs at himself. “Meet your inside-the-wall liaison! I’ll be keeping an eye on everyone to make sure communication runs smoothly. I’ll also put a stop to any fights or disagreements or whatever. The ones I can’t stop will likely be sent to you, though.” 

Ennoshita smiles proudly at his partner, then turns to Suga. “And I took over scheduling for the search groups. I have a few searchers who help me out, but we’ll keep an eye on everyone and make sure that they all come back on time.” 

Suga blinks. They really...when had they had the time to make all of these positions? And to enforce them?

“Yamaguchi and Daichi put themselves in charge of food rationing and growth monitoring,” Ennoshita continues. “And Noya is on wall scheduling, with help from Tsukishima. Tsukishima will also be handling community growth projects, like the new showers we’re working on and how we’ll spare the materials for it.” 

“See?” Tanaka gives him a huge, hopeful smile. “You won’t be doing this alone at all. We’ll be here to help you.” 

Oh. Suddenly, all of the things that Daichi and Yamaguchi were talking about earlier make sense. No wonder he wasn’t aware of it all, it seems that they were coordinating it all themselves. 

“Then...what’s left for me to do?” Suga asks. 

Tanaka makes another large gesture, this one at Suga himself. “Suga-san, our outside-the-walls liaison. You’ll be in charge of communication with other groups outside of Karasuno. Any trade deals are left to you.”

“Plus the opportunity to create a council for vetting new members and another for advising you on these outside relationships.” 

Suga looks between the two in awe, shaking his head in amusement at their matching grins. There’s a little too much of Ennoshita’s intelligence in Tanaka’s, and a little too much of Tanaka’s mischief in Ennoshita’s. “When did you have the time to coordinate all of this?” 

“Unimportant,” Ennoshita waves away his concern. 

“You two are something else, you know that?”

Tanaka’s grin only widens. “Don’t worry too much, Suga-san. We’ll be behind you every step of the way. That’s a promise.”

“Karasuno can finally heal,” Ennoshita nods firmly. “And we’ll all help it heal together.”

They only have a moment of peace before things go wrong, as they always do. 

Suga is lying in his makeshift bed with Daichi, his head on Daichi’s chest and Daichi’s arm curled around him. Moonlight shines in through the uncurtained window in their room. It’s been a long day, but a good one. Everyone had gone out of their way to let Suga know that they had his back, and for the first time in a long time he’s feeling truly hopeful. He turns his attention back to Daichi, who’s gently tapping his fingers on the back of Suga’s neck, teasing him without words. 

Every time Suga looks at the stump where Daichi’s arm used to be, he’s taken back to the day it had happened, when Daichi had pleaded that Suga _do it, please, I can’t do it myself._ The memory is shrouded in a haze of confusion and horror and Daichi’s screams of pain. 

_It was the day I failed you,_ Suga thinks to himself. 

Daichi’s arm tightens its grip on him. “It was the day you saved me,” he says. Suga glances up, startled and a bit embarrassed. He hadn’t realized that he said the thought aloud. 

They’d...they’d all been hurt by this apocalypse. Traumatized is too weak a word for the horrors that they’ve seen. But most of it can be locked away, forgotten about until they inevitably die in some horrible, bloody way. Daichi’s arm isn’t like that. His missing arm is a physical, visual reminder of the pain they’ve all gone through, of everything they’ve lost, of the trail of blood left behind from the events of the past year and a half. 

It isn’t hard to see the less obvious scars, not if you’re looking. Oikawa’s mind cracking and spiralling is a good example of how this apocalypse has broken them. Hearing someone waking up screaming across the compound because of a nightmare. Seeing the fear in your loved one’s eyes as they’re torn into by the evil undead. Or, if you’re like Daichi and so many others who don’t know their family’s fate, praying that your loved ones are no longer around to face the horrors that are surely yet to come. 

Suga presses his lips to Daichi’s stump, carefully, because he knows the skin there is sensitive. The skin at the end of the stump is pulled together and neatly stitched with thick elastic threading, and the skin is discolored from irritation and trauma. 

When he looks up, Daichi is smiling gently at him, brown eyes warm and welcoming. He unwraps his arm from around Suga in favor of pressing his palm to Suga’s cheek, cupping his face gently. “I’m so glad I ran into you.” Literally, he means it literally, and Suga can’t help but laugh lightly at the reminder of their meeting. 

He’s long since told Daichi that their meeting is what had kept him from recklessly letting himself be killed, and Daichi had forgiven him, had held him and told him that his existence is a gift. It’s odd, because before everything, Suga had never felt the need to be this close to someone. He didn’t want anyone to hold him at night or whisper things in his ear or kiss him sweetly on his forehead. But there’s a comfort, maybe in the mundanity of it, to have Daichi here by his side. And it would be easy, really easy, to say that he's using Daichi's company to make himself feel less alone. But it would also be wrong. Once you have a harrowing experience, even if you haven't known each other long, you're bonded in a way that's different from a normal friendship. 

And Suga isn't upset in the slightest that their friendship has evolved into what it is now.

No one but Daichi understands those six days. Six days of pain, of fear, of hopelessness. No one else saw the dread and acceptance in Daichi's eyes on that rooftop as Suga pleaded with him not to give up.

There's a comfort in understanding, a safety in the known. And Daichi is known in this unsettling, unknown world. 

A scream echoes in the distance, too close to brush off as anyone outside the community. Both he and Daichi bolt upright in their bed, blinking wildly at the interruption of their peaceful night. They both jump in surprise when a light banging sounds at the window. Shimizu’s muffled voice comes from behind it. 

“There’s been a breach,” she says as loud as she dares. “The undead are inside the walls.” 

Suga’s blood turns to ice. “We’re coming,” he says quickly as he and Daichi extract themselves from bed and yank on pants. They’re out the door in less than a minute, both bearing weapons and silent in their terror. Their safe haven, no longer safe. 

Oh gods. If anyone dies, it’s his fault. It’s his fault. He was supposed to make sure the wall was secure! 

Ennoshita materializes by his side, breaking that train of thought. “How many?” Suga asks, running a hand through his hair as they quickly make their way across the compound. His other hand grasps a thick piece of pipe that he keeps in his bedroom. 

“I’ve heard as many as six,” Ennoshita replies. 

“Fuck.” He tries to quiet the overwhelmingly loud, guilty thoughts running through his mind. “Where?” 

“Near the south end of the compound,” Ennoshita says. “Fucking doggie door. Knew we should’ve put a priority on patching that up. We were gonna get to it in a few days.” Ennoshita’s breath suddenly audibly hitches in his throat, but when Suga turns to look at him he can’t make out the expression on his face in the dim moonlight. “Ryuu!” He shouts, and Suga turns to see Tanaka and Noya battling it out with a particularly large zombie that’s throwing its weight around. 

“Go help the others! They’re by Takeda’s office! We got this one!” Tanaka yells without even looking at them. But it seems that he and Nishinoya are stuck in some sort of stalemate with the zombie, neither being able to overpower the other. 

“Go,” Suga nods at Ennoshita, and the other man breaks hastily from their trio to join his partner. 

In silent agreement Suga and Daichi make their way towards the south side of camp and Takeda’s office. Somewhere are the sounds of fighting and grunting and yelling, but they seem to be coming from every direction. Gods, where is everyone? How can they help? It’s so hard to see in the darkness. 

A strangled yell sounds from their left and they turn to see movement near the wall. Suga and Daichi start to run up to the movement, and Suga can see that it’s Narita, struggling on the ground as he wrestles a zombie. They pick up the pace, five or so yards away, only getting slightly closer before Suga chokes on a gasp. “Narita, watch out!” 

Behind him, another zombie is approaching, but Narita can’t hear his shout of warning and Suga and Daichi are still too far away oh gods--

A sharp whistle sounds and the zombie looming over Narita’s back turns suddenly to follow the noise. Ukai emerges from the darkness, running, and with a short cry he raises his wrench above his head and brings it down on the zombie’s head. Suga can hear the smash and the accompanying splatter as the zombie goes down, and Ukai gives it another final stomp on its head to make sure that it’s down for good. 

Narita stands, having won his skirmish with his zombie, and his eyes visibly widen in the darkness as he realizes how close he came to joining the undead. He makes the quick sign for _“Thank you,”_ at Ukai before gesturing closer to the wall, where Suga can now hear more sounds of fighting. 

As a group, they troop towards the wall. Asahi, Shimizu, Saeko, and Suzumeda are all locked in a sort of running battle with three zombies. Only Saeko has a usable weapon, and she brandishes it at any zombie that moves too close. 

“Watch out!” A voice from above says, and Suga watches as Kageyama comes falling into the battle from above, his makeshift javelin brandished in front of him. He immediately engages one of the zombies in a fight, and Saeko follows his lead, twirling the hammer in her hand prettily before going into the fight. 

“Go get more weapons,” Suga tells the trio standing in front of him, and they quickly start to scale the wall in order to find some of the hidden weapons they keep up there for the sentries. 

Fights always seem to happen in a mixture of _fasttoofastwhat’shappening_ and slow motion. Suga kicks one of the zombies and suddenly it’s on top of him. Fast. He flips them and they roll. Slow. Ukai appears and throws the zombie off of him. Fast. He catches his breath. Fast. Together they descend upon the zombie, who’s scrabbling to get at them. Slow. 

Once the zombie is dead they turn and see Kageyama and Saeko still working on one of the zombies, with Daichi wrestling with the other. Daichi falls to the ground. Slow. The zombie lowers its head to try and bite Daichi’s face. Slow. Daichi reaches up to grab at its neck with his one arm, doing all he can to keep it off of him. Slow. 

The scene reminds him of that rooftop, a strange dark figure looming over Daichi’s dying form, and fear rushes through him so strongly that it paralyzes him. 

Ukai’s whistle rings sharp in his ear but the zombie doesn’t even look up. Ukai is running. He’ll be too late he’ll be too late Suga will watch Daichi die and he’ll do nothing about it-

_“Die!!”_ Another form jumps down from the wall, and Suga watches in disbelief as a small figure falls next to Daichi and the zombie and quickly kicks the zombie off of Daichi. The zombie reels, Daichi sucks in an audible breath, and the small figure lets out another battle cry as it leaps onto the zombie’s back and stabs it in the back of the neck until it doesn’t move any longer. 

The small figure lifts its head and Suga thinks that he must be dreaming, because this can’t be real. “Hinata?” 

“Boke!” Kageyama yells, and the word is filled with nothing but relief. At his feet, his and Saeko’s fallen zombie writhes as Saeko finishes it off. “The fuck are you doing here?” 

“Saving your asses, apparently!” Hinata’s wild smile is more than welcome, and Suga feels a grin inadvertently come to his own face. “Dumbass, you can’t even stay safe from zombies for two months, can you? I can’t believe-”

Hinata’s proud tirade is cut off by a loud _“Oof,”_ as the air rushes out from his lungs. Kageyama had barreled into the smaller teen, crushing him in his arms in a strong embrace. 

“Who are you calling dumbass, dumbass?” Kageyama mumbles, burying his face in Hinata’s hair. 

“Hey!” Hinata struggles a bit before wrapping his arms strongly around his friend. “I missed you too.” 

Kageyama suddenly pulls away. “What the fuck were you thinking, jumping down from the top of the wall!? You could’ve hurt yourself!” 

Suga can’t stop his laugh. “Says the kid who did the exact same thing not even ten minutes before!” 

Kageyama ducks his head in embarrassment while Hinata hits him, yelling something about “Boke ‘Yama, boke!” 

“Hey! Is everyone okay?” Tanaka’s voice can be heard over the yelling of Hinata and Kageyama as a small group of community members approach their spot on the wall. 

“Everyone’s good!” Saeko yells back, just as loud. In fact, maybe even louder. Must be a Tanaka gift. 

“Late-night wall fix, anyone?” Yamaguchi asks the group assembled, holding up a hammer sheepishly. 

Suga laughs in relief, so fucking thankful that everyone seems okay. He still has to check on everyone, interrogate Hinata, and kiss Daichi until he’s sick of it, but for now only one thing takes precedent. 

“Let’s get the wood and metal we need for repairs. Saeko, Asahi! You’re in charge now. Tell us what to do,” Suga says, and they nod at him and start giving commands. 

The days following tonight are likely going to be rough on everyone, but if there’s one thing he can count on, it’s all of them sticking together.

* * *

[Bokuto](https://youtu.be/9U4ZPs6Eyus)  


Inarizaki is kind of a bust. Of course, when they arrive Kuroo is immediately networking. The rest of them hang back, a little overwhelmed. 

Inarizaki reminds Koutarou of Karasuno in some ways: there seems to be a lot of people, all of them busy and on their way to one place or another. But no one here looks near as friendly. Everyone regards them with their mouths twisted in a snarl or with guarded eyes. It’s probably what’s kept them all alive until now, but he definitely doesn’t want to talk to any of them. Their entire compound is built around a huge megamarket, with cars and debris acting as the walls that keep them safe. From the outside, it looks like a huge junk pile, which actually isn’t a half-bad disguise. 

Much to Kuroo’s relief - and as an extension, the rest of the group’s -, Daishou wanders off almost immediately. While their bickering could sometimes be amusing, Koutarou knows that Kuroo is more relaxed without his old flame in the picture. 

Kuroo fits right in, and if it wasn’t so funny, it would probably be a little scary how quickly he starts making friends with the familiar cunning smile that Koutarou only saw sparingly before the whole apocalypse. He schmoozes and smirks and jokes and now that he thinks about it, Kuroo could probably make a very terrifying politician. 

Kenma’s eyes haven’t stopped rolling since they’ve entered the compound from Kuroo’s efforts, and it helps ease Koutarou’s nerves about the new, unfamiliar, and unfriendly place. 

“Kuroo and I’ve got the supplies,” Tora jerks his thumb towards where Kuroo seems to be having a staring contest with Suna, Kita looking uninterested. “Lev and Yaku went off to trade or some shit, I don’t really remember.” Tora suddenly leans in closer to Kenma and Koutarou, his expression strangely serious. “I don’t like the feel of this place. Something’s off about the way everyone’s looking at us.” 

“I noticed that, too,” Kenma murmurs, his eyes flickering around. Koutarou knows that what they’re talking about is likely important, but it looks like there’s people around trading items for food, and he’s interested in trying his hand at trading some of these shoes from the factory that are taking up space in his backpack. 

Tora flashes them both a forced smile. “Maybe you both can look around. Just stick together, alright? I’ll keep an eye on our resident entrepreneur.” They all collectively turn to Kuroo, who is now enthusiastically shaking hands with someone who looks like they want to bite his face off. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself tarred and feathered,” Tora grumbles, and with that he sends them a quick salute and goes to rejoin Kuroo. 

“Can we go trade, too?” Koutarou bounces a little on his toes. Being here, no matter how unsettling it is, lifts his spirits a bit in the hopes that someone might know something about Akaashi. If anyone does, Kuroo is sure to find out about it, and Koutarou - not for the first time - is grateful for his friend. 

“Let’s look around first,” Kenma says, which is just another way of saying no. Koutarou pouts but follows Kenma anyways. 

It’s clear that they use this area as some kind of town square. Everyone is milling about, and there’s even more people than at Karasuno, and there are people yelling about their most recently-scavenged goods and services that they can offer. It’s a controlled sort of chaos in that everyone is living their own life, with little to no collaboration. Koutarou wonders how things might have been different if they stumbled upon Inarizaki instead of Karasuno. Would there have been someone with enough medical knowledge to help Daichi? Would Akaashi still be with their group? 

Once, months ago and before they had left, Daichi had approached Koutarou and asked if he blamed Suga. Apparently Suga hadn’t been sleeping well, afraid that Akaashi’s disappearance was his fault, since he insisted that they go to Karasuno. 

Before then, Koutarou hadn’t really considered it. Was it anyone’s fault (except maybe Oikawa’s, but even then...they still don’t know the whole story) that Akaashi was gone? Was Suga really to blame, since he had originally brought them to the place where Akaashi would disappear from? Was Koutarou to blame, for not insisting that Akaashi stay by his side? Was Akaashi to blame, for leaving in the first place? 

It makes his head hurt. Blame is a cruel thing, and something that he doesn’t think he should spend too much time thinking on. Blame won’t bring Akaashi back. 

“Want some meat, kid?” One of the older members offers some nice-smelling meat on a stick to Koutarou. He can’t stop his mouth from watering, but before he can emphatically nod his head and say _please,_ reaching for his backpack to see what he can trade, Kenma is shaking his head and yanking him back by the hem of his shirt. 

“Thank you for the offer, but we’re okay, sir,” Kenma says quietly but surely. He reminds Koutarou of an iceberg when he’s like this, quiet but looming, his emotional presence bigger than his physical body, one that makes others carefully skirt around him due to the intensity in his eyes and his mannerisms. 

“Alright kid, but you ain’t gonna find much other meat around here!” He laughs after them as Kenma drags him away. 

“Kenma! Why were you so rude? He was just offering us meat, and it smelled so good.” Koutarou glances wistfully at the man and his little cooking fire and the incredible smell of his meat. 

“Walk a little faster with me, Koutarou,” Kenma says, his legs moving extra fast in order to actually drag him. 

“What’s wrong?” Koutarou is quickly realizing that Kenma wouldn’t act like this for no reason, and he’s known Kenma for a long time. At least five years. And he trusts him, maybe even more than he trusts himself. Kenma’s intuition and quick mind has gotten them out of more tight spots than any sort of brute force. 

Kenma is still making his way across the hostile compound, towards the direction where Kuroo and Kita disappeared to with their things. “Koutarou, have you noticed how everyone’s looking at us?” 

Koutarou glances around. Well, yeah. He has. “They’re just curious at new people in their compound.” 

“No,” Kenma says patiently. “Not that they’re looking at us. _How_ they’re looking at us. Like we’re their prey.” 

Koutarou chances another glance around. Okay yeah, maybe they have an uncomfortable gleam in their eye, but it’s nothing Koutarou hasn’t seen in other survivors. It’s a look that most of them probably have at this point, a year into this hell. 

“And that guy was right. You’re not going to find much meat around here, because we’re in the middle of Tokyo and it’s not likely that the wild animals in the country would move here looking for food. There isn’t any here for them.” 

Koutarou furrows his brow. “What does that mean? Did he come from the country? Is he a meat salesman?” 

Kenma chews his lip, his steps faltering for a moment before he picks up his pace again. “No, Koutarou. Well, maybe,” he amends quickly, “but….”

“What?” 

Kenma looks at him with difficulty, his large eyes wide and earnest. “I think the meat that he had was human meat,” he says. 

A thick lump forms in his throat. “Wh-what?”

“They eat human meat here, we have to leave. Right now. Do you know where Tora, Lev, and Yaku are?” 

Koutarou doesn’t know how Kenma’s brain is working right now, because he’s still stuck on _human meat, they were eating human meat, Koutarou smelled human meat and wanted to eat human meat and his mouth watered to human meat. That was a person. Human._

Oh gods, what if Akaashi has been turned into human meat? 

He feels sick, and he abruptly stops walking, accidentally yanking roughly on Kenma’s arm in the process. The smaller man lets out a yelp. “Koutarou,” he says, then catches a glimpse of his expression.

“It’s going to be okay. We didn’t eat any. So let’s get Kuroo and the rest and go. Do you know where Lev and Yaku are?” 

“Aren’t they with Kuroo?”

Kenma hums. “Tora should be, but I think Yaku and Lev were going to look around for a bit.” He looks up, as if he might magically just see them, before huffing. “They could be anywhere.” He shakes his head and tightens his grip on Koutarou’s shirt before continuing to pull him along. “We’ll find Kuroo first, so he knows we’re trying to leave. Maybe he knows where the others are.”

They spot Kuroo’s distinct head of hair a few yards ahead, so they make their way towards it quickly. He’s talking with large gestures with Aran, looking a little frustrated but otherwise perfectly okay While Koutarou hangs back, Kenma immediately walks up to Kuroo to interrupt him. 

“Kuro,” Kenma is saying, quickly and quietly, “we need to go.” 

Kuroo turns to look at Kenma, pausing his conversation easily, concern in his gaze. “What’s wrong?” 

A look passes between them, one that Koutarou can’t guess at but ends with Kuroo nodding slowly, still looking a bit confused but also looking around to try and find Kita to get their things gathered before they leave. 

Koutarou bounces on his toes, looking around to see if anyone is looking at them closely. 

“Maybe we should continue this in the tent,” Kuroo says slowly, gauging everyone’s reactions, and a look of relief flashes in his eyes as they all nod emphatically. The tent that he’s talking about seems to belong to Kita and his group members. It’s fairly large, at least big enough for six of them to stand comfortably in, and really just some tarps slung over a wooden frame. 

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asks again, his eyes on Kenma. Kenma gives him a look that clearly says _not here,_ and Kuroo is about to open his mouth again, likely to ask Kita about privacy or something. 

“Cannibals. They’re cannibals,” Koutarou blurts, then immediately slaps a palm over his mouth. It sounds worse saying it like this. _Cannibals._ They _eat other people._ Oh gods, they eat other people. Kenma sighs one of his _I-really-wanted-to-avoid-this-but-everyone-around-me-is-an-idiot_ sighs. Oops. 

Kuroo, never one for hesitation, turns to Kita. “You eat humans?” His voice is carefully controlled.

Kita shakes his head. “Not us. But what the other people who live here do isn’t my business. We all leave each other alone. As long as you don’t cause trouble and contribute as per your terms, you’re left alone.” 

Kuroo’s stiff stance doesn’t change. “I hope you understand that we can’t stay here, now.” 

The white-haired man shrugs. “To each their own. Do you need help gathering your supplies?” 

“No, thank you,” Kuroo says. “But we might need some help tracking down our other group members. Two of them, the tall guy with silver hair and short guy with blonde hair.” 

“Suna, Aran,” Kita looks at the two men, and they both walk out of the tent at a jerk of his head. “They’ll find your people.” 

“What are we gonna do?” Tora asks it quietly to the group, and Koutarou notices Kuroo’s ever-stiffening back and Kenma’s lips that are pressed thin. He’s familiar with their body language: they’re not sure. 

“Let’s just wait until we have Lev and Yaku back here, then we’ll decide what to do.” 

“There’s a small housing community east of here. Lots of condos and apartments that you might be able to regroup at,” Kita says. Kuroo squints mistrustfully at him, but Koutarou gets the feeling that Kita likes Kuroo. Something that Kuroo said or did in the past few days warmed the level-headed leader to him, so his suggestion is likely genuine. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking. 

The tent flap opens to reveal Lev and Yaku, both of whom look serious. They must know that something’s up, too. 

“We’re leaving,” is all Kuroo says, and they nod. He turns to Kita, hesitant. “Thank you for your help.”

“Think nothing of it.” Kita hesitates for a moment. “Maybe you can consider it an apology for Karasuno.” 

“Maybe,” Kuroo says. “Thanks anyways. Maybe we’ll meet again.” 

A faint smile graces Kita’s lips. “Maybe.” 

“Don’t forget to grab everything,” Koutarou reminds them, and they gather their items before giving one last nod at Kita, Aran, and Suna. 

Once again on the road, Koutarou grips the straps of his backpack tightly. 

“I’m sorry, no one knew anything about Akaashi,” Kuroo says heavily. It’s fine. That’s fine. They’ll find him, whether it’s because he’s seen Koutarou’s tags or they finally get a good lead. If he’s out there, they’ll find Akaashi, Koutarou owes him that much. He owes it to his friend to never give up the search. 

“Something will come along,” Kuroo comforts. 

“Maybe sooner than we think,” Kenma murmurs. They all look to him in confusion and he points to a spot ahead, a little to the right of their current course. 

A group is walking towards them, their leader graced with a familiar head of spiked hair and flanked by two tall figures. From this distance, no facial expressions can be made out, but their identities are unmistakable. Their promise is unforgettable. Despite the hesitance in Kuroo’s expression, Koutarou feels something grace his chest. 

Hope.

* * *

[Kunimi](https://youtu.be/X9_n8jakvWU)  


“So how long is your pet gonna follow us around for, Gov?” 

“For as long as I damn well like,” Watari grumbles at Kindaichi. “And don’t call me that when it’s only us, asswipe.” 

“Feisty,” Kindaichi grinned at him, earning himself another killer glare. “No need for the hostility.”

“And it’s an experiment, not a pet.” 

Makki looks back at the zombie stumbling along behind them, trying and easily failing to catch up to their group. “It’s kind of pathetic. A little sad to watch it trip after us.”

“I think we should kill it,” Kyoutani mutters darkly. 

“Nah, let Watari have his fun!” Yahaba bounces, shooting a quick grin at Kyoutani. “It’s not like it can hurt us. Poor thing’s much too slow.” He throws his head over his shoulder. “How are you doing back there, Mr. Zombie sir?” The zombie growls, likely in response to the increased volume of Yahaba’s voice, and their bomb boy bursts out in peals of laughter, joined by a few others in the group. 

They’ve already been walking for quite a few hours, but after days upon days of being cooped up inside the Shiratorizawa hospital it’s understandable that they’re all a bit antsy. One of the first things they did after leaving the compound was hunt down a pack of zombies and obliterate them. Kunimi’s freshly-washed jacket is now stained with putrid blood, and he wrinkles his nose as the smell wafts back up and hits him with a vengeance. 

As part of this new bout of boredom, Watari decided to spare one of the zombies, one with a shock of white hair and hollow eyes, and let it follow them as an experiment, to see if zombies get tired or slow. So far, the answer is no. 

“What are you going to do with it when we get to Inarizaki?” Kunimi asks.

Kindaichi already has a grin on his face, the one that indicates that he’s going to say something stupid that only he thinks is funny. “Who knows, they might have a zombie kennel where you can keep it!” 

Kunimi sighs as Watari groans loudly enough to be heard over Kindaichi’s cackles. 

“Gods, I would kill for a smoke,” Yahaba grounds out. 

“You smoke?” Kunimi asks. He hadn’t predicted that.

Yahaba sighs, looking very put-upon. “No, but if there’s ever a good time to start, it would be now.” This makes Makki break out in howls of laughter, ones that have Boss turning around from his leading to snap.

“Quieter. We might not be the only ones out here.” He looks back towards the direction they’re walking, but not before they all hear him mumble, “If anyone deserves a smoke, it’s me.” 

Well. No one would deny him that. 

Boss’s unsettling demeanor has been persistent, and at this point it’s been worrying even the most unobservant of their group (Kunimi won’t point fingers...but it’s Kyoutani and Kindaichi). The places he goes when his eyes hyperfocus are a certain type of hell Kunimi never wants to know. Boss wakes up screaming whenever they can convince him to stop walking around enough to actually sleep, and his hands shake from exhaustion. 

Kunimi and the rest of them feel completely helpless. He suspects that it’s something like PTSD or along those lines, some kind of traumatic stress response, but Kunimi doesn’t know enough about mental conditions to offer any sort of support. Not that Boss would let him, even if he could. Boss has always been concerningly good at keeping them all safe and protected while also maintaining a safe distance. 

It is nice to hear him cracking jokes, as unfunny as they are (Boss has never had much in terms of a sense of humor, but that’s fine - they don’t keep him around for comic relief. That’s what Kindaichi’s dumb decisions and Yahaba’s defensive quips are for). 

“Personally, I’d kill for a stiff drink,” Mattsun mentions casually. 

“Oh shit!” Kindachi’s eyes light up. “Can we please go find some alcohol and get trashed, Boss?” 

Boss half-turns to eye Kindaichi. “Are you even old enough to drink?” 

Their group breaks out in peals of laughter at Kindaichi’s expense, and the tall man blushes and splutters. “I turned twenty! At some point!” 

His protest makes their laughing die down. That’s right: they’ve all had at least one birthday during this hell. Kunimi isn’t sure, but he might have had two at this point. With the seemingly endless winters, it’s hard to tell when the seasons begin and end. It could be well into spring, maybe even April, and Kunimi would have no clue. 

Stolen. That’s the word that comes to mind. This time has been stolen from them, and they’ll never get it back. All of their friends, their families, their lives before this: stolen. It’s unfair, but it also isn’t worth complaining about. Life is so incredibly unfair, but at least Kunimi is still alive. At least he has his friends by his side. At least there’s food in his stomach and a warm place to sleep. And yeah, maybe there’s a zombie following him right now, but he has people to back him up. 

It doesn’t stop him though, from lying awake on his cot at night, staring into the sky and longing for something he can’t name. 

Is it loneliness? Or is that too simple an emotion? There’s probably just a gaping hole from everything that was ripped from him: the ease of living, warm showers, a dry bed. The rough edges of that wound ache in the silence of the night, leaving him yearning for...something. Simpler times, probably. Not always fearing for his life. A hug from his mom. 

He shakes the thoughts from his mind, aided by Makki’s obnoxious laugh. “Kindaichi, you’d be such a weepy drunk!” 

“No I wouldn’t!” Kindaichi hotly defends himself, his face reddening in embarrassment. 

Yahaba almost chokes on his laugh. “Oh my gods, you so would! And Kyoutani would punch you for crying!” 

Kindaichi turns a betrayed expression to Kyoutani. “I can’t believe you’d punch me for having feelings!” 

Kyoutani looks simultaneously like he wants to commit murder and also be put away for it so he doesn’t have to talk to any of them ever again. “I literally said nothing.” He whirls onto Yahaba. “Stop dragging me into your shit, asshole.” Yahaba pulls his trademark, _Who, me?_ look, which doesn’t fool anybody but stops violence against their bomb boy anyways. 

“Hey, doesn’t that look familiar?” Watari interrupts and points to a spray paint-covered side of a building. Indeed, on the side, is the same symbol that was painted on the side of the shoe factory from a week (2 weeks?) ago. They’ve been running into it periodically for the past few months, but it wasn’t until the shoe factory that they learned that it’s the tag of the group that apparently peeled off from Karasuno. Boss, Mattsun, and Makki still don’t talk much about what the group wanted, but to be fair, they haven’t pried. At this point Kunimi thinks he doesn’t want to know. 

The tag in question is surprisingly detailed for how many times it’s painted across Tokyo. A baseball bat and a crowbar are crossed to make an ‘X,’ and below it is a bird with a menacing beak - a crow, maybe? 

“Think that they might be close?” Kunimi asks Watari. They have good reason to be concerned about the presence of the Karasuno group: their arrival is what sent Boss into this weird funk he’s in now, so who knows what might happen if they run into them again?

It’s the bad sense of humor that whatever fucking gods created this damn apocalypse that makes the vaguely familiar figures appear in the distance, not very far from their Inarizaki destination. Could they not have waited ten more minutes for their group to be safely behind the walls and away from Boss and his precarious mental state?

Kunimi carefully turns to Boss, afraid that he might have either that terrifying hyperfocused or that equally concerning blank look in his eyes, but instead he’s smiling slightly at the group as they very obviously approach. Boss has adjusted their course, and they’re now walking straight towards the group. Makki and Mattsun look relaxed, so it doesn’t seem like this would be anything but a simple business transaction. 

Their groups collide too soon, and Boss holds up a hand to let them know to hang back a little bit. The group looks a little more tired, more road-weary than before. They’re missing the little orange-haired guy, and Kunimi wonders if the kid died. 

The tall dark-haired man from the other group smirks at them before his eyes find the zombie slowly descending upon them. “Anything we should be worried about?” He asks, tilting his head at it. 

“It’s mine. Kindaichi, help me find a stick or something to control it.” Watari starts walking away from the group.

“For real?” Kindaichi whines. “Gov…”

“Now,” Watari demands, and Kindaichi deflates, following Watari.

“Do you have any news on Karasuno?” Boss asks. 

The dark-haired man looks uncomfortable, maybe a little apologetic. “From what we’ve heard, there was an uprising. Oikawa likely isn’t in power anymore.” 

Boss stiffens. “Uprising?” He asks carefully. 

“Led by Ennoshita, apparently.” The tall dark-haired man is watching Boss warily. It seems like he’s bracing for any kind of reaction, and his stance relaxes when Boss deflates a little. 

“Idiot,” Boss closes his eyes briefly and says the word like it’s a prayer. When he opens his eyes again, they’re steel. “I have information for you.” 

“What will it cost?” 

Boss shakes his head. “You paid with information. I’m merely returning the favor. I talked to an Akaashi Keiji a few days ago. Dark hair, light eyes, baseball bat.” 

“Keiji! Is he okay? Where is he? Does he know we’re looking for him?” The man with white hair and black streaks jumps forward, causing Makki and Mattsun to raise their weapons. Kunimi clutches the crossbow. Yahaba and Kyoutani hang back, watchful as ever but ready to jump in if needed.

On the other side, the guy with dark hair that’s tied up in a messy bun and wide eyes grabs the white-haired man’s shirt, effectively pulling him backwards. But now, everyone in the opposing group has a light in their eyes that wasn’t present before.

“We talked, he’s fine. He was happy to hear that you’re all alive and looking for him.” Boss smiles and it’s a little sad. “He’s at Shiratorizawa.”

“Is he a prisoner?” Mohawk asks quickly. 

Boss tilts his head. “I’m not sure. He wasn’t very forthcoming about that. He’s allowed to go about the compound, but he’s not allowed to leave, from what I gathered.” 

“How do we get to Shiratorizawa from here?” Dark-haired man asks. 

“Do we look like a GPS service to you?” Yahaba steps forward, his hackles raised. Kunimi understands, but is surprised by his audacity. While this group is confusing and unknown, he wouldn’t dare stick himself in Boss’s business. Boss takes care of it. 

“It’s fine, Bomb Boy. Shiratorizawa is a half day’s walk…” As he explains the directions to the dark-haired man, Kunimi analyzes the rest of them. The two hanging back, a really tall guy and a really short one, are whispering to each other, looking intense. Mohawk man has sidled over to the wide-eyed guy and the man with white hair. White hair is wiping at his eyes with his forearm. 

“He’s alive,” he cries quietly, and if Kunimi hadn’t been watching him he’s sure he would have missed it. Both Mohawk and Wide Eyes place a hand on his shoulder as he cries silent sobs of pure relief. 

Sometimes Kunimi forgets that good things do happen. It’s hard to remember, when every day you’re only reminded of the worst of humanity. Bad luck clings to all of them like a shroud, with heavy memories weighing them down and good memories fading fast in this hostile environment. And yet...someone is crying, and they’re crying tears of joy. It’s been a long time since something good, truly good, has happened. 

He holds onto it. This feeling of watching a miracle occur. And he hopes that one day, sooner rather than later, he can feel it for himself and his friends, too. 

Not long after the other group departs for Shiratorizawa, the faint familiar yelling of Kindaichi rises into the air. Not even ten seconds later he and Watari come barreling around the corner of a building, eyes wide in surprise. Watari has a manic grin on his face.

"Zombies! Our experiment called in friends!" Kindaichi yells, and the rest of them take fighting stances. None of them will say no to another fight. 

Kindaichi is right, and within a minute they're all locked into fun, fast combat with a group of eight or so zombies. Kunimi uses a knife he usually keeps in his boot to slice up the zombie he's facing off before he actually kills it, enjoying the way it continues on despite its ear hanging off its head and its guts spilling out. 

The fight is done too soon (they're getting a little too good at this - it almost isn't fun anymore), and Kunimi wipes off his knife on Kindaichi's sleeve just to make his friend yelp, a wide grin on his face as Kindaichi jumps around. "Ew ew ew! Why do you do this every time, Kunimi? Wipe it off on your own sleeve!" 

"It's because you always react like that," Watari snorts. "He likes watching you jump around like your namesake, Sparky." The mention of his nickname makes Kindaichi scowl, and Kunimi snorts a laugh. 

"Hey, anyone seen Boss?" Makki is looking around, brow furrowed. Reality hits Kunimi like a truck, and everyone in the group looks around quickly, trying to see if they spot their fearless leader lying among the dead. But only the undead rest at their feet. 

Boss is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto having amazing intuition (him feeling insanely uncomfortable at Inarizaki) but subpar common sense (man with meat? yum!) is my favorite trope. 
> 
> No fun facts today bc I want to share some wips  
> My current WIPs are listed below, but I haven’t started seriously working on any of them. Would there be any interest in reading them?? (none of them will likely be over 15k)
> 
> \- Fullmetal Alchemist non-slash found family fic where Roy Mustang is struggling with PTSD after the Ishv(b)alan war, a few years after the Elrics start working for him. Mostly just me hurting Roy for 15k or so. 
> 
> \- BokuAka abuse survivor/apartment complex/office AU
> 
> \- BokuAkaKuroKen YouTuber AU
> 
> \- EnnoTana Magic Mafia AU
> 
> \- SPACE ! (That’s all I’ve got...give me prompts and pairings lol)
> 
> \- Amateur ghost hunters who accidentally get wrapped up in a murder mystery plot. I have zero ideas for this one but i do have a bomb ass playlist so hmu if you know what should go down
> 
> I’m running dry on ideas haha feel free to send me prompts, headcanons, etc on tumblr or twitter! I can’t promise I’ll use them but exposing myself to 5 million hcs is part of my writing process and gets me v excited to write more.


	9. the place we used to love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lot happens in very few words, lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a day and a half late! Please be patient w future chapters too...we are officially off schedule as I try to make these chapters good while also slogging through school. 
> 
> Also sorry for any typos! I sprinted through this one! Un-beta'd. 
> 
> MAJOR cw for suicidal thoughts! It’s brief but please be careful with yourselves. If you want to skip it, ctrl+f from “...he listened to Iwaizumi.” to “Stop laughing!”

* * *

[ Oikawa ](https://youtu.be/siO6dkqidc4)

He had left without saying goodbye, which was probably the right course of action seeing that no one had wanted him there anymore anyway. Still, he hopes that Suga-chan won’t worry much. He always did have a habit of caring about others more than he should. 

Life outside the walls is much different than before. Peaceful, almost, which matches the reports from Karasuno’s scavenging groups that many of the zombies are too decomposed to give chase or already dead. 

He’s carefully calculated it out, and he knows that his supplies will last him another week or so, as long as he doesn’t run into many unforeseen circumstances, like one too many chases or stolen items. He’ll definitely have enough to get to where he’s going. After that...well, he’ll figure it out then, if he has to. 

The building looms ahead, a 1-day walk turned 2 from his unhurried pace. He’s still so close to Karasuno ( _too close_ , his mind whispers), and the danger of giving in and going back still looms. He doesn’t think he can stand the stares if he did decide to turn back. He doesn’t think he can ever go back. Not after what he’s done and the pain he’s caused. 

He slows to a stop, staring up at the building. He’s seen it often in his dreams, but never from the outside. He forgot how normal it looks, like every other office building that graces the streets of Tokyo, cold and uncaring. He’s filled with an ache to leave the city, to go back north to the farming fields and dirt roads and winding mountain trails and spans of large, tall grasses. 

_“We can be fairies!” Tooru rubs more paint onto his face, the shiny, glittery concoction twinkling in the sunlight. Hajime has some smeared across his cheek, too, though he looks a lot less thrilled._

_“Isn’t fairies kind of a baby thing?” He scrunches his nose._

_“My sister says you’re never too old to play fairies! Come on, Haji-chan!!!” He whines, knowing that Hajime has a problem saying no to him when he begs with big eyes and clasped hands._

_Predictably, Hajime rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine.”_

_Tooru squeals with delight, carefully adding paint to Hajime’s shoulders and arms, painting a small swirly design on his chest and painting two lines on his face, one on each cheek, descending from his eyes like blinding lights._

_“There. You’re beautiful,” he says, and it’s true. Hajime is glowing in the sunlight, his eyes blown wide in surprise at Tooru’s statement. His brown eyes twinkle with some kind of merriment before embarrassment takes over and he’s ducking his head, sending a punch to Tooru’s shoulder. “Hey! Ow! What was that for?”_

_“Shut up, Stupid-kawa.” Tooru knows he should be insulted, but he sees the faint grin on Hajime’s face when he says the mean nickname. He sort of feels special, knowing that Hajime will call him silly names._

_“How do we play fairies, anyways?” Hajime changes the subject._

_“Come on, I’ll show you!” Tooru holds out his hand, and Hajime doesn’t hesitate to take it._

Iwaizumi had never hesitated in taking Oikawa’s hand. Until he did. 

_“Come on, Iwa-chan! You can’t give up now!”_

Oikawa somehow gets his legs to move forwards. He feels like he’s in some sort of dream, living between the past and the present. 

_“Iwa-chan’s with me,” Oikawa smirks, and the rest of the group rolls their eyes._

_“Of course he is.”_

The glass is shattered in the front door, but he still grasps the metal handle and opens it, stepping over the threshold and into the building. 

_“What are we trying to find again?” Iwaizumi asks._

_“I’m personally hoping for some batteries and staples. But I’d take tape and paper too!” Oikawa beams at him. Iwaizumi smiles good-naturedly and rolls his eyes, nudging Oikawa’s arm with his elbow. Oikawa loves it when he’s like this, lighter than usual, teasing and a lot closer to the Hajime he knows._

Glass crunches beneath his shoes as he walks through the lobby. Hajime’s smile lingers here among the overturned tables and chairs. He closes his eyes briefly. 

_“Duct tape!” Iwaizumi’s head pokes up from the cubicle he’s exploring, and he holds up the roll of tape directly into the air. “Catch!” He tosses it, and Oikawa grabs it midair, adding it to his pouch._

_“I still don’t understand why you want me to have the pack,” Oikawa complains._

_“It’s your turn,” Iwaizumi doesn’t even turn around, and Oikawa pouts playfully._

_“Why do you hate me?”_

_It’s rhetorical, and if Oikawa hadn’t paused to drop the tape in his pack, he never would have heard Iwaizumi’s quiet response. “I could never hate you.”_

He makes his way up the stairs, past the second floor, halting at the third. He’s not sure if he’s more afraid of what he’ll find or what he won’t. His entire body shakes with the effort of being here, of trying his hardest to stay in the present, of trying to gasp in breaths of air despite the water that feels like it’s filling his lungs. When did he start drowning? 

_He isn’t sure how they didn’t hear it. There’s a group of people here when they walk onto the third floor. Oikawa can count four right away, maybe five, and they’re battling a large group of rotters. Their entrance is loud enough to attract the attention of a few rotters, and both Iwaizumi and Oikawa settle into fighting stances._

_Iwaizumi looks relaxed, his walking stick raised like a club, ready to swing._

_Oikawa isn’t scared. Not with Iwaizumi by his side._

The answer is long ago. He’s been drowning for so long he doesn’t remember what it feels like to breathe only air.

_Battles are quick. They always are. Jab left, jab right, duck, stab. But there are more rotters than he thought, and Oikawa’s hatchet gets lodged in a rotter’s head. He fumbles to get his knife out of his boot, but it’s not there. He curses himself. Of all the times to forget…_

_“Catch!” He looks up in time to see Iwaizumi’s walking stick flying at him, and he reaches up a hand to snatch it from the air. He makes quick work of the rotters in front of him, wielding the walking stick like a deadly baton. Blood rains down on him._

He finds himself drawn to the opposite corner of the room, near the emergency exit stairs. The entire floor is encircled by windows, and it brightens the entire room. It reveals every detail. There’s still a pool of blood, but it’s not fresh anymore, and there’s no Iwaizumi lying in it. 

_“Hajime!” He screams. There’s a knife...there’s a_ knife sticking out of his side. 

_In the confusion of the rotters, he forgot that there were other humans here._

_“Hajime!” He screams again, trying to rush past the rotters to get to his Iwa-chan. His Hajime._

_But his screams only draw them closer to him, and he desperately swings the walking stick at them, trying to get closer. “Hajime!”_

_The others are gone, disappeared down the emergency stairway. Three are some rotters trying to get to Iwaizumi. Oikawa increases his efforts, and he can see Iwaizumi slowly inching his way towards the emergency stairs, but he’s wincing, blood is sluggishly gushing from his side, he’s not going to make it there in time, and Oikawa lets out a wail._

_It can’t end this way. It can’t._

It does. 

_“Go!” Iwaizumi’s voice is hoarse. “Run!”_

_“No! Come on, Iwa-chan! You can’t give up now!”_

_“I’m right behind you,” Through the small horde, Iwaizumi’s tiny smile breaks Oikawa straight into two. They both know he’s not right behind him. They know that this is it._

Oikawa falls to his knees, a sob bubbling up and spilling from his lips. He lightly brings his fingertips to the stained carpet. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed that Iwaizumi’s body isn’t here, ripped apart by rotters. Is he one of them now? That thought is more painful than any other fate he could think up. 

He should have just laid down and died here, too. Instead, like a coward, he listened to Iwaizumi. 

Tears spill from his eyes, joining his sobs, but they do nothing to stop the liquid choking him. He has a wish, sudden and blinding, to die. 

His existence isn’t doing anyone any good, so it wouldn’t be a loss. He wants nothing more than to stop feeling this pain that accompanies existing without Hajime. It’s a physical ache, a missing limb, a poison inside of him that grows and chokes and suffocates. 

He is nothing without Iwaizumi. He let Iwaizumi die. How easy it would be, now, to let himself die too. 

_“Stop laughing!” Tooru pouts up at Iwa-chan, who is almost crying, he’s laughing so hard. “It’s not funny!”_

_“It’s hilarious!” Iwa-chan chokes out. “I...you...your face!” He bursts into giggles again._

_“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Tooru grumbles. “See if I’ll send you any sets at practice tomorrow.” He’s sitting splayed on the ground, having slipped on ice during their daily walk back to their houses after practice._

_Iwa-chan smiles down at him, eyes dancing with mirth, but face tender. “Are you okay?”_

“Are you okay?”

Oikawa stiffens, hearing a voice behind him. Someone who says Iwaizumi’s words in a different voice. He doesn’t answer. Maybe if he stays silent long enough, they’ll leave him in his grief. Or maybe they’ll take pity on him and kill him. 

“You look a little lost.”

_“You look a little lost, there.”_

He turns around and more tears spill down his cheeks. Standing there, looking down on him much like he did back in their second year of high school when Tooru slipped on ice, is Iwaizumi. He looks so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time that Oikawa wonders if this might not be a hallucination. 

There’s dirt smeared on his face.

There’s black paint dripping from his eyes like tears. 

There’s bandages on his fingers.

This isn’t a hallucination. This is a hallucination. Iwaizumi is standing in front of him. He’s not there at all. 

“Hi, Oikawa.” He extends one hand, as if to help Oikawa up. He ignores it and stands himself, quickly, stumbling a little but eventually standing tall. They’re a few yards away from each other, neither one daring to move any closer. 

“You’re...alive?” The tears have stopped. Something else, something similar to grief but more cold, wraps around his heart.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I needed time.” Iwaizumi says it slowly, haltingly. “To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting to find you here.” 

“Then why did you come?”

Iwaizumi’s lips quirk upwards the tiniest bit in that stupid fucking smile, the one that Oikawa loved so much, the one that reminds him of their childhood days spent picking dandelions and setting a volleyball between them and sharing their first kiss, hesitant and warm and wet. 

“Wishful thinking?” He offers. 

“I left you,” Oikawa’s breath hitches. “You were alive, and I left you.”

Iwaizumi’s smile slips from his face. “No. No, sweetheart, you didn’t leave me. I...I asked them to stab me. I wanted to be left behind.”

The words are like an arrow straight to the heart. “What?”

“I couldn’t- couldn’t stay there anymore. I needed a way out, and I saw it. I used it as a way to escape from Karasuno.” Iwaizumi is rambling a little, trying to explain, Oikawa’s head is spinning. “I was going crazy there, I had to leave, so I pretended that I died so you wouldn’t look for me and bring me back. I’m sorry.” 

“You left.” Oikawa says, voice level and full of that coldness from before. It might be fair, it might not be, but he says it anyways. “You left!” 

“Oikawa-” Iwaizumi starts. 

“No! You can’t say anything!” 

“Please, just let me say what I need to. I’m sorry th-”

“I hate you!” Oikawa screams. He...it wasn’t his fault? Iwaizumi’s death wasn’t his fault? It was orchestrated the whole time? To _escape him?_

This feeling, this cold, overwhelming grief, is fury. He’s drowning, the liquid has slipped over his head, and no one can hear his screams for help. The likelihood of something hearing their argument and taking advantage of that is great, but at this point, he hardly cares anymore. “I hate you I hate you _I hate you!”_

Iwaizumi is finally rendered quiet, just standing there staring like his damn apparitions. “I wish I had never met you,” Oikawa seethes. “I would have been better off without you.”

That breaks his silence. “You would have been dead twenty times over without me!” Iwaizumi explodes. There it is, there’s that hot-headedness that Oikawa knows so well. If this is an apparition, it’s the most in-character one yet. 

_“Exactly!”_ Oikawa spits petulantly, and Iwaizumi reels back as if Oikawa had slapped him. 

They stare at each other in shocked silence for one, two, ten seconds before Iwaizumi’s face morphs from pure surprise into white-hot anger. There's something else there too, something hidden underneath the boiling fury, but Oikawa is done caring about what it is. If he has something to say, Iwaizumi can fucking say it. 

“Don’t you dare!” He yells, advancing closer. “Don’t you dare say shit like that! I worked too hard to keep you alive for you to wish you were dead! I care too fucking much about you to watch you throw it away! You fucking idiot!” 

Oikawa snorts, an ugly sound. “If you cared so much about my wellbeing then you wouldn’t have left! Asshole! Do you have any idea how much I needed you?” 

“I didn’t think you needed a fucking babysitter! Maybe if you weren’t so weak-”

Oikawa steps forward, righteous fury blazing through him. “You’re the one that walked away! You have no right to call me weak!” 

They’re close in their anger, too close, and he can’t breathe well with Iwaizumi this close. He’s fucking pissed, because how dare he get this close!? Oikawa raises his hands and places them on Iwaizumi’s shoulders to push him back. To his surprise, his hands make contact.

This isn’t an apparition. Iwaizumi really is right here. 

And he hates him, in this moment, he hates Iwaizumi more than he’s ever hated anything in the entire world before. Because even though he’s nearly sure that this Iwaizumi in front of him is an apparition, there’s the slightest chance that it isn’t, because he’s never seen Iwaizumi look like this before, so heartbroken and angry and disbelieving. There’s a coldness to him that never used to exist before. 

And if he’s real, then that means that he’s played the cruelest joke in existence. 

Oikawa can see it, can see Iwaizumi growing to loathe him, and is now using that hatred to fuel this cruel trick. Pantomiming his death to get away from Oikawa. 

The worst part is, Oikawa can’t blame him. He thinks he would hate him, too. He wonders how painful it must have been, to slowly watch Tooru slip away. He wonders if Iwaizumi even cared. If he ever cared. 

Something in him breaks, a dam that lets out all the water and now he’s no longer drowning. He immediately crumples, tightening his grip on Iwaizumi’s shirt and pressing his face into his chest, muffling his unhinged sobs. He smells like sweat and blood and guts. Iwaizumi’s here. He’s really, truly here. Oh gods. 

He falls even deeper into Hajime’s embrace and he feels arms tighten around him. 

“I’ve got you,” Hajime’s voice is rough in that way it only is when he’s trying not to cry. His voice is filled with something that’s so opposite of hate that Oikawa thinks that if he didn’t know better it might be love. “I’m sorry. I’ve got you, Tooru.” 

He sobs louder at the sound of his name coming from Hajime’s lips. He never thought...he never dared to imagine that he would be able to hear that again. Or touch him again. Or feel his embrace. It’s surreal and every dream brought to life and even though he’s still so angry, he continues to cry into his shirt. 

"I've been looking for you," Tooru cries into his chest, his mind wandering to all of the memories that have been occupying and invading his mind for months now. "But you were always too far away." 

"I'm here now. Can you feel my hands on your back? I'm right here." 

“I feel you,” Tooru whispers, and Hajime just holds him tighter. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
[Kunimi](https://youtu.be/2dzf4T3RbEc)

The mood is once again solemn as they hit the road. They only managed to stay put for a day before they began to grow restless, and Makki and Mattsun were the ones who eventually decided that they have to keep moving. 

They decided upon Karasuno as their direction, since Boss seemed to have some connections there. 

“Staying here is doing us no good. If Boss wants to come back, he’ll find us.” 

“How?” Kyoutani grumbles under his breath, but no one answers. All they can really do at this point is hope that they’ll be reunited at some point, and hopefully not with Boss’s zombie. 

“I’m bored,” Kindaichi whines. “Now that we have no purpose, can we do something else other than walk around?” 

“What do you mean, have no purpose?” Watari shoots him a glare. “Boss was always urging us to keep moving and gather information. That’s what we’re doing.” 

Kindaichi groans. “It’s so boring.”

“Oh yeah? What do you suggest we do instead?” Yahaba turns to him with a single eyebrow raised.

Kindaichi shrugs. “Set things on fire?”

Which is how Kunimi ends up sucking gas up through their hose to siphon into a bucket. 

“Why am I getting the feeling that we maybe should have told him no?” Yahaba is standing beside him with the bucket, ready to take over the hose in case Kunimi pulls a stunt like last time and accidentally swallows some of the gas again. 

He ignores Yahaba for the moment and gently sucks on the tube until he can feel the pressure increase, which makes him quickly pull his mouth away and angle the hose downwards so that the gas splashes straight into the bucket. He makes eye contact with Yahaba. “Because we shouldn’t have.” 

“I dunno, I think it might be kind of fun,” Makki sidles up beside them and takes the bucket from Yahaba, a grin on his face. “Loosen up, it’ll be great.” 

“Until we burn down all of Tokyo,” Watari murmurs, joining them as well. 

“The probability of us actually creating a sustained fire is very low,” Kunimi says. “We’re in a city of concrete. It’ll go out before it gets too big.” It’s the only reason he’s allowing this to continue, unlike Boss, who would have shut it down immediately. He feels like himself and Watari hold all of the impulse control. 

Speaking of Watari...“Did you leave Kindaichi, Kyoutani, and Mattsun alone?” He asks. 

Watari nods. “Mattsun is responsible enough, and I wanted to check on the gas situation.” 

Yahaba is already bolting off in the direction of their three friends, and if Kunimi weren’t still in charge of gas, he would have followed. “What did I do?” 

Makki shakes his head, but the wild smile is still on his face. “Issei isn’t near as responsible as you all seem to think he is.”

From the public library that the rest of their group is in, they can hear a little bit of shouting and they watch with exasperation (Kunimi), shock (Watari), and amusement (Makki) as a rush of flames spurts through an open window.

“What the fuck? They don’t even have an accelerant!” Watari immediately starts to run off towards the library, and Kunimi sighs and shakes his head.

“Think this is enough?” Makki looks down into the bucket as the rest of the gas in the car’s tank empties out into it. 

Kunimi peeks over the edge, then shrugs. “Sure. I’m no arson expert, though.” Makki nods and then gestures towards the building, and they both start walking towards it. 

“Really?” Makki squints at him. “I would have guessed, out of anyone, it would be you.”

What does that even mean? Kunimi gives him his best deadpan look. “Thanks for the compliment.” 

“What! I’m just saying! You have the look about you.” 

“The look.”

Makki splutters, and at this point Kunimi just likes seeing him flustered. “You know! Like you’re planning the deaths of all the people around you.” 

Kunimi just shakes his head. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“So comforting,” Makki mutters. Kunimi pushes the door to the library open to find the rest of their friends gathered around a zombie corpse. It’s an odd sight to see the zombie stretched between Kindaichi, Kyoutani, Yahaba, and Mattsun as they try to yank its pants off. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kunimi stares at them blankly. 

“Uh,” Kindaichi says eloquently, then promptly drops the zombie. Unfortunately, he’s holding the head with Yahaba, so Yahaba staggers under the loss of Kindaichi’s support and it sends both him and the zombie careening towards the ground. 

“Zombie in my face!” Yahaba shrieks, and Kindaichi quickly stoops back down to help him hold it again. “Fucker.” Yahaba elbows Kindaichi violently, and Kindaichi yelps.

“I’m gonna ask it again because he won’t,” Makki says, “What the fuck is happening?” 

They all stare at each other silently for a moment before Mattsun finally clears his throat. “We figured we needed a pyre.” 

“A what?” At least Makki looks as disturbed as he feels. 

“Well like, the building is technically the pyre, so we’re gonna use this corpse as the sacrifice.” Yahaba ‘explains.’

Kunimi just blinks at them incomprehensibly before turning to Mattsun. “Where’s Watari?” Because the other man wouldn’t stand for this at all. 

“Upstairs.” 

Kunimi takes one measured breath before schooling his face. “And why are you all taking its pants off again?” 

“We thought it’d be funny?” Kindaichi tries, his face held in an exaggerated wince. 

Kunimi shakes his head and turns away, and the others take it as a dismissal since he can hear them struggling again once he turns his eyes from them. 

“I found some good kindling!” Watari comes stomping down the stairs, thick dictionaries in his arms. “There’s a lot more upstairs if you guys want to stop fucking around with the zombie and help me.” 

“You knew they were doing this?” Makki somehow looks more shocked than Kindaichi feels. 

Watari rolls his eyes. “I just told them to keep me out of it. I don’t really care what they do as long as they don’t include me.” 

Fair. 

“Just hold him still!” Kyoutani growls at Yahaba. 

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder! It’s difficult to de-pants a corpse.”

“Don’t make me defenestrate you,” Yahaba points a strong finger at him, still trying to hold the zombie still. 

Kyoutani stares at him blankly. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means I’ll throw you out the fucking window, bitch. Don’t mess with me.”

Kindaichi leans closer to Kunimi. “Yahaba gets scary when he whips out the big words.” 

“Fuck you!” 

Five minutes, four expletives, and a few rolled eyes later, they successfully have a pantsless zombie. With all of them working together, they create a rough-looking pyre right outside the library doors, propping the zombie up on a flagpole and flying its pants as high as they can get them. They place books and pieces of the wooden desks from the library at its feet, stacked all the way up to its thighs, and Mattsun pours the gas all over the zombie’s corpse. 

“Who’s got a light?” He asks. 

Yahaba grins devilishly and holds up his lighter. 

“Hey, that’s mine asshole!” Kindaichi whines.

“Stop being a little bitch about it,” Yahaba snaps back. “You put it in my backpack, so it’s mine.”

“That’s not how it works! I fucking hate you, asshole,” Kindaichi shoots back. 

“I wanna just send you that one meme,” Yahaba says. “And it says like, ‘Oh, you said you hate me? I’ll never recover.’”

“What meme?” Kindaichi asks. 

“You know, the one with Willy Wonka.” Kindaichi just looks at him with a puzzled expression on his face. “Fuck i really havent missed the internet more than i do right now. Here wait.” Yahaba grabs a stick from the ground and starts drawing the meme into the dirt, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh that one!! Condescending Wonka!” Kindaichi says, delighted that he guessed it. 

“Yeah!” 

“Wait...why that one?”

“Because you’re a fucking dumbass.” 

“Hey!” 

“You’re both fucking dumbasses,” Watari says. “Now come on, let’s light this pyre.”

With a flick of Yahaba’s thumb, the pyre goes up in flames, and it isn’t long before the smell of burning decomposed flesh hits them all. Kunimi holds in a gag. 

“Yeah, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Makki wrinkles his nose. “Whose fucking idea was this?” 

No one answers, but as one they all continue on, stealing glances back at their creation. 

“You feel better now that we’ve set a fire?” Kunimi directs it at Kindaichi, who grins.

“Much, thank you.”

“Oh my god,” Watari says suddenly. 

“What?” Makki asks. 

“It’s us. We’re the weirdos that leave ominous messages throughout the post-apocalyptic world.” 

“Post apocalyptic? We are presently apocalyptic,” Yahaba squints.

“He has a point, though. We kind of are those weirdos,” Makki points out.

“So? I like being those weirdos. If we won’t do it then who will?”

“Who says it has to be done at all?” Kyoutani asks. 

“I mean...it really does spice things up, doesn’t it?” Kindaichi brings up.

“...That was a person once, like me or you,” Mattsun says a bit quietly, as if he wasn’t just wrestling the pants off of it not even thirty minutes before. 

“Fuck ‘em, they aren’t a person anymore. When I die, string me up and display my underwear to the world,” Kindaichi says. 

Kunimi snorts. “No one wants to see your dirty ass tighty whities, Kindaichi.” 

“Why do you guys hate me? The point still stands without you ridiculing me.” 

Makki laughs. “Pfft. Not ridiculing you? Impossible.”

Kunimi holds back a grin. As fun as it is making Kindaichi the butt of their jokes, he knows that Kindaichi allows it in order to lighten the mood. As usual, his diversion tactics have worked and the mood is much less subdued than before. They’re walking for another few hours, teasing and trading stories, when it starts to get dark and Watari suggests finding a place to stop for the night.

“Oh.” Makki suddenly stops. Since he’s at the front of the group, all of them come to a halt as well. 

“What?” They turn to where he’s looking, and suddenly they all pause too. 

It’s Boss, that’s unmistakeable. He’s walking towards them, the black lines of paint on his face drippy and almost rubbed completely off. The fact that he got so close to them without them noticing would be alarming except for the fact that it’s Boss, and he’s about as loud as a gentle breeze. 

Walking beside him is someone Kunimi’s never seen before. It’s a man, one who’s taller than Boss by a good many centimeters, and with longer hair and wider eyes. He walks with a perceived confidence, and Kunimi is interested to know the history between Boss and the new guy, because there definitely is some. He can see it in the careful way they navigate each other, Boss’s hand lightly grabbing new guy’s wrist for a moment before letting it go, new guy’s eyes flickering to Boss every few seconds as if he’s afraid he’s going to disappear, the both of them twitching towards each other before flinching away. 

Despite the careful way they hold each other away, Kunimi can see how at ease Boss looks. 

“Everyone,” Boss greets them, a taste of a smile on his face. Despite the fact that he left them a day ago, no one berates him or asks him questions. Boss will say what he needs to. “This is Tooru,” he introduces.

Tooru lifts a hand and flutters his fingers. “Hiya.” 

“Will he be joining us?” Makki asks, already sizing up the new guy. 

To Kunimi’s delight, the new guy rises to the challenge, something competitive and curious flashing across his features. “I don’t know, am I, Iwa-chan?” He looks at Boss. 

Boss rolls his eyes. “This new group dynamic is going to be insufferable.” 

Makki breaks his stare with a laugh, pulling Tooru into his side with an arm over his shoulders. “If you can annoy Boss that much with just a few words, I think we’re going to get along just fine, Tooru.” 

Kunimi doesn’t miss the obvious pleasure that settles into Boss’s eyes as he watches Tooru integrate with the rest of the group. He walks up to Boss quietly. “Where to next?” 

Boss looks at him contemplatively. “I was thinking north, if no one had any objections.” 

Kunimi sees Tooru perk up, like he has one ear on Makki’s words and another on Boss’s. “North is good,” Kunimi answers slowly. There’s something he’s missing, but he’s sure he’ll find out what it is in time. 

“North it is!” Kindaichi grins.

Boss and Tooru share a smile, something secret and warm and hopeful. 

Oh yeah, Kunimi’s going to have a good time trying to put together this puzzle. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
[Akaashi ](https://youtu.be/NPX48NpSRvo)   
  


The stars are beginning to appear as he and Tendou make their way to the cafeteria. Keiji wonders if Bokuto is looking up at the sky and wondering if he, too, is thinking about him. Is it odd, to be in love with the sky? 

No, he thinks, not when it reminds him of Bokuto’s smile. 

Since the scientists got the engineers this month, that means that the generators in the hospital will be in running and working order, so when he walks into the cafeteria, he gets a good look at exactly what’s going on.

It’s not pretty. 

There’s at least half of Shiratorizawa crammed into the cafeteria, about 30 people, all of them upset in one way or another. Keiji can pick out Futakuchi’s and Mai’s voices, since they’re both standing near the entrance and also yelling at the top of their lungs at Shirabu, whose entire face is a bright red from his held-in anger. 

Ushijima is standing near one of the tables, looking helplessly like a fish out of water. He opens his mouth to say things as questions are being thrown at him, but the people asking the questions get sidetracked from listening to an answer by someone standing near them, who decides to engage them in an argument. Small verbal skirmishes exist all throughout the cafeteria, and it looks like Ushijima wants to yell something but isn’t sure what he can say that will stop the infighting. 

“He’s already tried to talk to them all,” Tendou sort of answers his question, “but they turned on him and immediately turned on themselves.” 

“And this is all from the scientists being granted the engineers for another month?” Keiji watches it all with a dry mouth. 

Beside him, someone clears their throat lightly. He turns to see Sakusa, a dark-haired man with a calming nature about him and a journal always in hand, watching the scene unfold before them. “This has been building up for the past year,” Sakusa says plainly. Standing next to Sakusa are two guys Keiji hasn’t seen before, and they look so much alike they must be twins. 

He knew that the scientists and farmers have had their disagreements in the past, but a whole year? This timeline is news to him. 

“Say, what are you doing here Sakusa? Don’t you usually stay out of things like this?” Tendou asks. 

“Why do you think I’m on the sidelines? The last thing I want is to get involved.” Sakusa shakes his head, eyes sweeping over the loud arguments occurring. “This is too big to miss, though.” 

“He can’t miss anythin’ that needs recordin’ for the history,” one of the men beside him says easily. 

“The history?” Keiji asks, only half-listening. There is kind of a brewing battle happening in front of them. 

“Omi here is compiling a written history of events!” He throws an arm around Sakusa, who looks mildly irritated. 

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Keiji says. “I hope that works out for you. Shit!” He notices Goshiki getting punched in the face by a young overzealous farmer whose name he doesn’t know. “I gotta go. Excuse me.” He jogs over to Goshiki, who has a hand pressed to his nose and his eyes widened in shock as he stares at the farmer. 

“You little shit!” He starts to pounce, but Keiji quickly lunges and clasps onto his wrist just in time to stop him from hitting the farmer back. 

“Let me go! I have every right-”

Keiji feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Sarukui. “Stay out of this, Akaashi,” he says, a serious look on his face. “This really isn’t your fight.” 

Keiji watches helplessly as Goshiki rips himself from his grip and gets up in the face of the farmer. “You think you can scare me, punk!?” 

All around him, the arguments crescendo. A few people are throwing fists, but most are yelling, begging to be heard. 

“You need our food to survive!” Mai screams at Fukunaga. 

“What would you do without our knowledge?” Spit flies from Goshiki’s mouth as he yells at the farmer. 

Background arguments rage on. “You use all the resources!”

“What we do is important!” 

“Get a watering can and do your job, dirt jockey!” 

“Lab rats should be put down like their namesake!” 

“What would happen if there wasn’t any way to cure your illnesses?”

“Could you survive without food?”

“Without wound care?”

“Without sustenance?”

“What would you do without us?”

“What would you do without us?” 

Keiji finds himself in an impossible position. A mere few weeks ago, he was going to turn on these people. He was going to toss them aside. Keiji from a few weeks ago would have relished in this moment. He would have smiled at the violence and the yelling, a visual reminder of a community cracking straight down the middle. But now, all he can do is watch in horrified silence. 

Across the cafeteria, he can see Kanoka engaging in an argument with one of the other members of the community. Kanoka, the person who warned him of this very moment, the behind-the-scenes peacekeeper. The sight of her joining in the fray jolts him. 

Why would everyone suddenly be fighting? Why couldn’t they just get along? Create a new agreement? Why did they feel like this is the best way, words of hatred and swinging fists?

Keiji can see the answer reflected in all of their eyes. It’s in their quick, panicked movements and their defensive words. 

It’s fear. 

They’re all scared out of their minds, and the fear is causing them to become people that they aren’t. They don’t know what’s going to happen and they’re so scared that they’re taking it out on each other. Will there be enough food if spring never comes? Will there finally be a breakthrough in the vaccine? Will Karasuno try to begin another war over precious scavenging land? 

All of these uncertainties, bolstered by the ambiguity of their leadership, takes away any sense of security. 

Is this his fight?

Futakuchi trades insults with Shirabu. Aone glares daggers into Shibayama, who is glaring right back at him. Komi kicks someone in response to them reaching out at him. Mai and Sarukui argue more animately than Keiji’s ever seen. 

It is. It is his fight, because the people who are fighting are people he cares about. He thinks of the kindnesses they’ve shown him, of Kogane’s welcoming smile, of Aone’s quiet and steady presence, of Sarukui’s guidance, of Futakuchi’s jokes. Futakuchi’s support. Komi’s nags. Mai’s gentle teachings. Shibayama’s leftovers. They all mean something to him, and he can’t sit by and watch them tear each other apart. 

A year and a half ago, Keiji thought that anyone could survive on their own. Hell, he thought he was better off without anyone. But that isn’t true.

Without Kenma, he might have died from intruders. 

Without Kuroo, he could have trusted someone he shouldn’t have.

Without Daichi, he might have given up and been killed by zombies. 

Without Suga, he never would have felt safe at Karasuno.

Without Bokuto, he would have died of loneliness. 

All of these kindnesses, all of these different people, brought together by compassion and love. Two things that make them different from the zombies. Two things that let them find the inspiration to keep going, even when things might feel hopeless or unfair. Humans have only survived thus far because they have each other. 

Without those that are different, they cannot thrive. He thinks about his friends, of Kenma’s intelligence and Kuroo’s cunning and Daichi’s leadership and Bokuto’s enthusiasm. 

Shiratorizawa is only divided because they forgot the value that others bring to the table when they’re different from you. The scientists cannot survive without the farmers, and vice versa. Fighting won’t fix this, but understanding can. 

“Please!” He rushes forward, something he would never in a million years do, as he sees someone push Futakuchi. “There’s no reason to fight! Let’s just talk!”

“You don’t even belong here,” the person sneers. “Get the fuck out of my way.” 

Keiji blinks and suddenly he’s pinwheeling backwards, his chest smarting from where he assumes the person roughly shoved him. His sneaker catches on one of the tables and he hits the ground hard, his head smacking against the metal reinforcements of the bench and the breath getting knocked out of him as his back connects with the concrete floor. He gasps loudly for air, and realizes faintly that the noises directly around him have quieted. 

“Akaashi!” Futakuchi looks down at him worriedly. “Are you okay?!” 

He’s still choking on air, so he can do little but try to nod. The movement hurts his head a little, and he winces. 

Futakuchi turns his gaze to the person who shoved him. “Hey! What the fuck is your problem!?” 

“Akaashi!” Goshiki kneels down next to him. “That was a loud hit. Is your head okay?” 

He can finally breathe again, so Keiji inhales and moves to sit up, doing so with extreme caution. “I’m okay, I think,” he says slowly. As he says it, he feels something hot and warm trickle into his ear, and it seems that Goshiki notices at the exact same time.

“You’re bleeding!” He says. 

“He’s bleeding?” Futakuchi looks absolutely murderous. At this point, they’re making such a racket that more of the arguments around them are quieting and everyone’s turning their way. Well, this wasn’t exactly how Keiji wanted to stop the fighting, but if getting hurt is what had to happen…

“Does he have a concussion?” Komi joins Goshiki on the floor next to him. “Here Akaashi, follow my finger.” 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Mai appears next to Futakuchi. Somehow, Aone has materialized there too, as well as Shirabu and Sarukui. The guy who pushed him almost backs off at their intimidation, but before long he’s joined by a few people too: Semi and a few others that Keiji barely recognizes from around the compound. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me. He’s an outsider, he has no business putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“He’s done more for this community than you ever have, asshole,” Mai steps forward, poking her finger in his face. 

The guy opens his mouth to spit something back when someone from near the front doors of the cafeteria yells out, very sharply and loudly, “Who are you?!” 

From his spot on the floor, Keiji can’t see what’s happening, but everyone suddenly starts shifting and murmuring. There are still some lingering arguments going on, but the majority of the crowd is focused on what appears to be newcomers, yelling jeers at them instead. How did they get inside the walls without anyone knowing?

“We have to get Akaashi out of here!” Shibayama and Kogane come running from between the members of the crowd. “They’re here to kill him!”

Keiji’s heart stutters. Kill him? Was it Oikawa and his group, here to make sure he’s keeping up his end of the bargain? Did they slaughter the rest of his and Bokuto’s group and do they want to get rid of him too? It’s extremely likely that that’s not true, but he can’t imagine anyone else wanting to kill him, or what reason they might have. Why is everyone out for his head today? 

“Come on Akaashi,” Kogane hauls him up, and his head spins with both confusion and the pain of being hit against the concrete not even two minutes before. “There’s a way out back here!” 

“No, stop!” One of the newcomers yells, and Sarukui roughly grabs onto his other arm as they hurry him out.

“Not today!” Kogane yells smugly back over their shoulders as the three of them bolt for the exit, Keiji trailing behind them. They burst out of the cafeteria through the side door, into the dark of the night, and they both abruptly let go of his arms. His heart is beating faster than he ever could have imagined as it tries to leave his chest. 

“Akaashi, run.” Sarukui’s face is serious. “Hide. We’ll find you and let you know when it’s safe again.” 

This danger is different from being outside the walls with Bokuto, fighting off zombies fueled by nothing but adrenaline and a single granola bar. This is real danger, humans hunting you down without pause, sheer desperation and the need to not get caught. 

So he turns, and he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts!  
> \- I listened to so much Diana Ross while writing this chapter. You know how it goes.
> 
> \- I also didn’t start writing this chapter until Sunday...so sorry if it sucks lmfao. Personally I really like it though. 
> 
> \- Say adios to our Seijo dorks! This is our official goodbye to Kunimi :) I loved writing him a lot!

**Author's Note:**

> give me a shout on [tumblr](https://lessons-from-moths.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/FromMoths) so we can become mutuals and admire each other from afar! I post personal rambles and so much Tanaka Ryuunosuke and kuroken that it's a problem.


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